


Goodnight From Me, Good Morning To You

by CorvusCorvidae



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College Radio, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvusCorvidae/pseuds/CorvusCorvidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn's nights of insomnia are filled with music and the alluring voice of one Rosario Cruz. AU.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sit Down

*0*0*

At exactly 1:58 a.m., you would begin to untangle your headphones, and by 1:59, you were laying back on your bed, with them plugged into your phone, waiting. Her voice would welcome you to the airwaves at 2:00, and from then on out, you'd let yourself just indulge in the music.

Okay, so you weren't actually listening for the music, even if it was pretty good, but for her. You didn't even know her name, which sounded crazy when you said it like that, but it felt like you knew her anyway. And sure, that brief stint of that psychology class last semester taught you all about how fetishes and stalking started, but this wasn't it. It wasn't.

There was nothing rational about this, you realised, but somehow, in the loneliness of moving to a new state, to a new city, to a new world from what it felt like, you had tried to find comfort, and you found it in Rosario Cruz; which was most definitely an alias.

She was on the campus radio station, hosting the 2am until 6am slot, her voice warm and comforting, with a hint of sharpness when she read the somewhat offensive messages posted on the station's Facebook page. It didn't seem to bother her, as her next song was usually a fuck you to the asswipe that wrote it in the first place, before returning to regular programming. But it showed you that she wasn't all smooth and seductive.

There were barbs on this rose.

But back to the point; she mostly plays 70s, 80s and 90s classics, with the occasional Amy Winehouse thrown in for good measure, and you could tell what mood she was in by the start of her set. When it was Joy Division's Love Will Tear Us Apart, and her sombre voice welcoming you to her night ahead, you knew someone somewhere had just broken her heart; and when she welcomed you with an almost silent chuckle before bouncing into Katrina & the Waves' Walking on Sunshine, you knew she was in a particularly chipper mood.

She made your insomnia bearable, and on the nights you really couldn't sleep, you'd just lie back on your bed, headphones in, and listen; like you were tonight.

She had become a comfort, a part of what was making college life so great, and you didn't know how to explain that. Some stranger was making you feel alive, making you feel something, when you were pretty sure life was making you cold and numb.

Whether she meant to or not,  _Rosario Cruz_  was making you happy, keeping you sane, and allowing you to crack a smile in the darkness of your room while your roommate slept soundly several feet away.

You didn't know her name either, and nor did you care to find out, Chrissy or Cassie or Cady something, you didn't know. She didn't like you, like most people there, and you tried not to let it get to you. College was going to be different from high school, that's what everyone said, and everyone was right.

High school had you ruling the school, college had you hiding in your dorm on Friday nights and feeling like you were lost at sea. Strangers, there were strangers everywhere, and you couldn't seem to approach them, you couldn't seem to break into their little cliques or even manage a hello.

Somewhere along the way, you had lost Quinn Fabray, and become this shell. Maybe it was the accident, the nightmares of the crash still haunted you, the pain of the metal crushing into your body still woke you, and no quick fix existed to cure all your problems.

Except the two to six a.m. set with Rosario Cruz and the music that spoke to you on some kind of spiritual level. That was nothing new, Glee Club had woken you to the wonders of music, but this was different. This felt like therapy, good therapy, and you were constantly in need of more sessions.

The only problem in all this was that within four hours, it was gone, and you were exhausted, and sleep never came easy. The music remained in your mind, washing over you and keeping you sane, but it wasn't enough.

And tonight, just as you were beginning to feel  _normal_ , your roommate's obnoxious alarm clock harshly broke your bubble and reminded you of the time: 5:55 a.m. You knew it was almost over, you knew your sanity, your anchor, was about to go. And then she spoke, ending it for tonight, until tomorrow.

"Alright, it's been a pleasure talking with you tonight," Rosario began, still sounding as upbeat as she had at the beginning of her set. "That's me almost done, just time for one more song." You hoped it was a good one, you needed it to be a good one. You'd have it on repeat until tomorrow, so it needed to be worth the honour of being the last played.

"To the ghost of Grace Kelly who I saw in the quad today, this one's for you. Now, goodnight from me, good morning to you. Enjoy." There was no more, Rosario was off, and the familiar sounds of James' Sit Down Next to Me began to play, and you could feel yourself responding in kind to it, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, gooseflesh on your arms, and a chill up your spine.

This was for the loneliest, the lost, and the ghost of Grace Kelly, apparently; but it hit you, it pulled you up from the bottom of the ocean floor, driving you towards a breath, pulling you back to life, and maybe tomorrow wasn't going to be as bad as you thought.

_Those who feel the breath of sadness_

_Sit down next to me_

_Those who find they're touched by madness_

_Sit down next to me_

_Those who find themselves ridiculous_

_Sit down next to me_

*0*0*


	2. Whiter Shade of Pale

 

*0*0*

Tomorrow wasn’t what you hoped it would be. You were tired, and you could feel the exhaustion right in your bones. Every muscle ached and every movement was requiring more energy than you had to give. You needed to sleep. You desperately needed to sleep. But that wasn’t possible, not while your roommate had her friends in the dorm room discussing some guy in their Chemistry 101.

Their inane chatter pushed you from the room, with your bag of books to possibly provide you some distraction, and the library calling your name. It was solace, a small one, being tucked away behind the bookshelves and out of sight. No one thought anything of someone studying alone, no one did a double take or gave a quizzical look, and it allowed you to blend in.

Your lack of sleep made you paranoid that someone out there knew how lonely you were, made you wonder if you had this big X on your back saying what a loser you were, and it meant you needed to do everything in your power to hide from the masses that might see it.

Maybe when you got some proper sleep you’d feel less like an outcast. Maybe when you got some proper sleep it wouldn’t matter what people thought. Maybe when you got some proper sleep you’d wake up to find this was all just one nightmare and real life was truly about to start. Maybe you’d finally gone and lost your mind.

Pulling your books out your bag, once at a table away from the rest of those in the library, you gave the appearance of one about to study. But the weight of your eyelids was unlike that you’d experienced in a while, and if you propped this book that way then no one would be able to tell you were sleeping. So, you relented, and finally, _finally_ , you fell asleep.

It was exactly what you needed, but as you were in a public place, it wasn’t destined to last.

“Should we wake her?” a male voice asked, pulling you from your sleep. You were face down, your head on your arms, eyes hidden from sight, but they were still so heavy you couldn’t be bothered opening them.

“Would you want to be woken?” a female voice then asked, and God, you hoped this was a dream.

“No, but this place gets busy after six and someone might draw on her face or something,” the guy replied, and you wondered if you just lay there long enough would they leave you alone.

“That’s your biggest concern? Not that her stuff could be taken?”

“Would you want to wake from a nap to find a penis on your forehead, and have no one tell you about it?” That wasn’t something you wanted, and apparently neither did this guy’s female friend.

“Of course not, but I’m not stupid enough to fall asleep in the library.” You wanted to groan in frustration, because you weren’t stupid, you were an insomniac, and you were also addicted to some stupid radio show that ruined your sleep, but groaning would mean alerting them that you were awake, and you didn’t want to do that.

“Please, you practically lived here last year,” the guy grumbled in return.

“I’m still not waking her.”

“Fine, I’ll wake her then.” Rather than have some strange guy touch you or something as equally as awful, you put one hand up to stop him.

“You don’t need to wake me, but thanks,” you groaned out, deciding it best to let them know you were awake. Though, when you looked up, it wasn’t a they, but a he, as only one person stood before you.

You hadn’t heard the girl leave, and looking round the library, you saw no one but the guy. Taking the time to adjust your eyes to the lights, you looked back up, realising you’d completely missed what the guy had said.

“Sorry?” you asked, and he smiled.

“I was just apologising for interrupting you. The library can get busy and-“ he began, giving you an easy smile as she spoke.

“And you didn’t want anyone drawing a penis on my face. Thank you for your concern,” you replied, hoping that didn’t sound sarcastic, but the smile remained in place.

“I’m Mike,” he then added, holding out his hand rather formally, but you accepted and shook it.

“Quinn.” You let go of his hand and stretched back into the chair, feeling your muscles pull, while holding back a groan at how good that felt.

“Freshman?” he asked, and you felt your brow furrow in response.

“How can you tell?” Mike’s grin grew and he shook his head before responding.

“The bags under your eyes tell their own story. You pledging this week or something?” No, you weren’t. You were crippled with insomnia and loneliness, and the bags under your eyes weren’t from partying or hazing, but how could you possibly tell this guy that?

Thankfully, you didn’t have to.

Typically, when you informed people, they gave you this look. It was a pitying look, or in some cases, one of disgust, as if it was infectious. Many would recommend things that help them get to sleep, completely misunderstanding how insomnia worked, and others would move on quickly. It was one of those things that could go either way, and you didn’t want to find out which way Mike was going to respond, since he was only the third person who you had spoken to since arriving on Campus. The other was your roommate, and her friend when she wanted to know if she could sit on your bed.

What a life you were leading.

“Mike, you coming?” a voice interrupted, one unlike that you had heard before. Rather than the girl who was there earlier, this was a guy, with longish blond hair, who was looking between Mike and yourself. Mike waved his hand, signalling a moment, and turned back to you.

“Sorry, I need to go. But hey, if you’re ever looking for a place to get some proper sleep, come by, we have some of the comfiest couches on campus. Don’t be shy.” He picked up your pen and scribbled on a stray bit of paper, before sliding both towards you, leaving you frowning.

The two of them walked away, and you tried to hide your distaste at the poor pick up line he’d given you. God only knows what he had written down, but you were curious, and taking a look, you were surprised not to see some fraternity house or dorm room number, but some obscure classroom number in what you assumed was the Communications building. You were going to have to check.

Had that all been a hallucination? If felt like it could have been one. If it wasn’t for the bit of paper before you, you would have thought it was, because it felt very surreal. Chancing a look at your watch, you fought back a groan and began shoving all your things in your bag. You needed to get something to eat, and maybe afterwards you could try sleeping in your bed for a change. That would make a huge difference to the pain in your neck.

*0*0*

That evening, you ended up sleeping throughout the night, which was a first. On one hand, it was great news, because you finally managed to get some sleep, but on the other, you were gutted you missed Rosario Cruz’s radio show. Yeah, it was available on playback online, but it didn’t feel the same as when you listened to it live. And since you'd slept so much lately, it was certain you weren't going to be able to sleep much more any time soon.

Alas. That was a concern for later.

For now, you were taking a break from your roommate's gossip session with her friends, and taking refuge in the quad. It was so much quieter than usual, which was a godsend. You hated being surrounded by all the crowds, all the cliques and groups and friends, when you sat alone on a bench looking out. You just needed a break, a moment of fresh air before you’d have to go back to the dorm room and pretend everything was fine.

Your IPod was providing some reprieve, though, with a mix of some of you favourite songs from Rosario Cruz's recent sets. It was all you had in the light of day, and that was a really pathetic thought. College was meant to be fun, meant to be one of the best times of your life, so where had it all gone wrong?

That was not something you wanted to dwell on, as it would only lead to memories of your first week, the pain and agony of trying to keep up with the other students, and finding that your recovery meant you couldn’t. And now you were stuck on the out looking in.

Maybe all was not lost, but it surely felt like it, and that was a depressing thought if there ever was one. Though, right on cue, you could feel your phone in your pocket pulling you back to the few people in your life that made you smile and feel a shred of happiness. It was just a shame they were spread across the country, rather than with you and in your corner, as you really could use them right about now.

Pulling out your headphones, you quickly pushed that into your bag and made to answer your phone before it rang out.

“Hey, Quinn!” Rachel cheered, sounding particularly upbeat, which brought a smile to your lips as you answered the phone.

“Hi, Rach. What’s going on? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until tomorrow night.” The regular Skype chats were a saving grace, and always a highlight of your week.

“That’s why I’m calling, I’m not going to be able to chat tomorrow night. I have a date!” she sounded so excited, it took all your remaining willpower to be happy for her and not lash out about another lonely night ahead. You’d lashed out at Rachel enough over the years, and this time it was not her fault. She was entitled to have a life; you should have had one too, by now.

“That’s great!” you replied, hoping to at least sound happy. “What’s his name?” Rachel easily provided the details, practically holding the conversation herself. You would hum and make noises where necessary, but it was hard to keep the enthusiasm going when all you could think about was sitting in your empty dorm room reading or studying while your roommate was out partying.

“So, seeing as I’m not going to be around, I was thinking I could make it up to you,” Rachel finished, and you blinked twice, catching on to what she was saying.

“Oh?” Your voice sounded shaky, unsure, which was ridiculous, but already you could feel a lead weight in your stomach.

“Why don’t I come up this weekend? You can show me around, introduce me to your friends, and we can have a great time! It’s been so long since we’ve properly had a chance to hang out, and I know you have to be sick of coming down to New York, so it’s only fair I come up!”

Oh. Shit.

“Rach, I’m not-“ you tried to cut her off, but she was on a roll, and there was just no stopping her.

“After all, you did buy me a rail pass, and I really want to put it to good use. You know I’m not one for waste, and I’d like to get the most out of it as possible. I can leave on Saturday morning, and you can meet me at the station.”

“Rachel, I really-“

“I’ll make sure to bring appropriate attire for any party you take us to, and I promise not to embarrass you with any stories from Lima, as long as you do the same. My date with Rupert is just a test run, so I can still have some fun.” No. No. No.

You could feel the blood run from your face, your lungs pick up pace, and there were suddenly spots in front of your eyes. You might have been sitting down, but you could feel your body swaying, and the phone began to slip from your grasp. Fuck. The panic was building, and you couldn’t shake it off. It felt like your two worlds were going to collide, and you couldn’t have that, and why did Rachel have to try and be so nice. Why did she have to be considerate and think about making it an even back and forth from New York to New Haven? You wouldn't have minded if you had to do all the travel, it would have been so much easier. God, she was going to see your faults. She was going to see how you didn't have any friends and no, no, no.

The phone slipped, clattering to the ground, and then you felt your hand reaching out for something, anything, to stop you from falling forward and careening into the path. But then there was a hand on your arm, holding you, keeping you steady, and you barely recognised the face as you slumped back. His arm was then down, grabbing your phone, and answering the voice calling through.

“Hey, I’m sorry, Quinn’s going to need to call you back. Thanks.” Abruptly, Mike hung up on Rachel, and turned to you, looking concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, despite shaking your head as you said so.

“You look like you’re going to pass out. Here,” Mike rooted around in his backpack and produced a fresh bottle of orange juice, as well as a kitkat. “I was saving these for the study session I’m heading to, but I think you need them more than I will later on.” He offered you them, but you could barely reach out to take them.

“No, honestly, it’s okay-“ you began, waving your hand to fob him off.

“I insist. Please.”

“You’ll be late-“ You were mortified. You couldn't believe your luck at having been caught having a panic attack and just about passing out in a public area. But Mike didn't seem to be bothered with that in the least, he just looked more and more concerned for your safety.

“I won’t leave the bench until you at least drink something, so I’ll be late anyway.” Mike shrugged, and you ended up smiling at his persistence. Accepting the now opened bottle from his hand, you took a drink, and then realised how thirsty you actually were.

Your phone in Mike’s hand began to vibrate and he took a look at it and then flashed you the screen as you finally stopped drinking. Half the bottle was gone, and you felt a little embarrassed, but Rachel’s caller ID was on screen and you knew that you needed to talk to her so she didn’t freak out on you.

“Hey, sorry about that,” you murmured, answering.

“What happened? Are you okay? Who was that guy? Do you need me to come up there? Are you alright?” she fired, and you found yourself shaking your head as she spoke.

“Rach, relax, I’m just not feeling very well. I’m going to go back to my dorm and rest, please don’t worry.” You doubt she’d be able to stop worrying, but you couldn’t focus on her, you needed to ensure you had calmed yourself down, so you didn’t have a repeat of that panic attack.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Rachel asked, and you did appreciate her concern.

“I’m sure, I’ll text you later, okay?” You heard her agree and rattle on that she’d await your text and to look after yourself. Hanging up, you slipped the phone into your bag and turned back to Mike.

“I'm sorry about this, you can go, you don't need to-”

“Hey, relax, it's okay. I'm just glad I was here to stop you from falling into the ground,” he teased, and you managed a small smile. “Look, can I walk you back to your dorm?”

“You’re going to be late for your study session,” you pointed out, not wanting to cause him any more inconvenience than you already had.

“Please, any excuse to be a little late would be welcomed.” His charming grin was enough to convince you, but then he continued, causing you to smile. “Plus, you’re not going to make me become a creep and follow you back to your dorm just to make sure you’re okay, are you?”

No, you weren’t.

“I’m this way.” Pointing, you stood up on shaky knees, and he followed at your side.

Mike filled you in on his experiences as a freshman, letting you know the things to avoid and a few tips on how to make life a little easier, as you walked. You were pretty sure he was just filling the silence so you didn't feel self-conscious about the panic attack, and for that, you were thankful.

It had been a while since you'd had a proper panic attack. Sometimes at night, you'd feel the fear creeping up your spine and the dread taking over your body, but then Rosario Cruz would welcome you with her good music taste and comforting voice, and the panic would edge away.

The fact you freaked out over the mere thought of Rachel finding out you didn't have any friends was ridiculous, but to her, you were still Quinn Fabray, and you couldn't let her see the cracks in your mask. Especially not when she was gallivanting all over New York like she owned the place, fitting in with the best of them, going on dates, and enjoying life. No, you couldn't let her see what you'd become, and some how, you were going to have to keep your secret safe while not freaking the fuck out like you just had.

Speaking of...

Mike was standing with you outside your building, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks, knowing you'd spaced out on him. God, he must have thought you were such a loser. But looking at him, you didn't see judgement or confusion, you saw an understanding smile, and maybe your mask was more than just cracked. Maybe it had already fallen to pieces.

“Look, I know you don't know me, and you probably already have people, but if you ever just want to talk or hang out, come by the basement rooms in the Communications building. College can be lonely, and it can take a while to find your place. You don't need to face it all alone.” You weren't sure what to say, but Mike looked like he knew that was the case, and with a parting wave, he turned and walked away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, fought the wave of emotion that had come out of nowhere, and quickly headed inside.

Only once you were back in your room, thankfully your roommate was nowhere to be seen, did you take the shaky breaths threatening to turn into sobs. He had seen right through you. He had seen the loneliness and the exclusion, and he offered you a lifeline.

Your phone vibrated in your bag, pulling you back to reality, where you could ignore the emotions between the surface. It was Rachel, she was checking you were okay, and with a quick text back, letting her know you were back and going for a nap, you kicked off your shoes.

Climbing into bed, you put your headphones in, and just hoped you'd be able to fall asleep to the sound of Rosario Cruz's set from the night before.

“Now I know some of you are going to rant and rave about this, but I don’t care,” Rosario began. “My airtime, my song choice. So we’re going to kick things off with A Whiter Shade of Pale. For all you blessed folks out there, you know it’s originally by Procol Harum, and while that version is a classic in its own right, I prefer The Box Tops version. Enjoy.”

_And so it was that later_

_as the miller told his tale_

_that her face, at first just ghostly,_

_turned a whiter shade of pale_

*0*0*

 


	3. Modern Love

*0*0*

The communications building was not somewhere you frequented, nor was it a building you were at all familiar with. The classrooms down in the basement looked like they hadn’t been frequented in years, but from the noise coming from the one at the end, you knew that was not true for all of them.

You had only found yourself there because you knew you wouldn’t make it through the first semester if you were to carry on the way you had. The loneliness was killing you, or it would kill you, and Mike’s friendly offer was the best you’d had to date, so why would you turn that down? You would have to be an idiot to.

The slow trek over to the Communications building, and then down into the basement, might have been daunting, and yes, it did fill you with an anxiety you were not familiar with, but it was going to be worth it. You were sure of it. It needed to be worth it, because in all honesty, when you could be honest with yourself, it was your last hope.

Though, as you neared the door, you could feel the anxiety mounting, making your heart beat to an unknown beat, faster and faster, and drown out all other noise but the continuous thump, thump, thump in your chest. But you had to take the plunge, there was no other way. It needed to be done.

Reaching out, hand on the door knob, you could feel your body clench up tight, but you knew it would pass, in time, it would pass. You needed it to, as you had to open the door. You hadn’t come all that way for nothing, and God, a whole new college experience might be waiting for you on the other side of that damn door. The least you could do was open it and find out.

Yes, the music was slightly off putting as you couldn’t work out how many other people were on the other side of the door, but if they were friendly, much like Mike had been, then it might be exactly what you need. They might break you from the loneliness you were constantly living in.

And speaking of Mike, what if he wasn’t there? What if he wasn’t on the other side of the door? What would you then say? What if they asked you to leave? Would they look at you with pity? Would they judge you? Would the world do you a favour and swallow you whole to ease your humiliation? And fuck, why was this so damn hard?

Where had the head cheerleader gone? Where had the HBIC disappeared to?

Your questions were answered moments later when a sharp pain shot up your spine and across your rib cage. That’s where she’d gone. The HBIC had been totalled by a truck, and without your backbone leading the charge, your mask protecting you from the world, you were now at the mercy of it. The only person looking out for you was you; you needed to remember that.

Christ, Rachel had done that. Day after day, slushie after slushie. She’d held her head up high and pushed onwards, pushed against you when it was you rallying to get her kicked out of school or pressure her to leave herself. So you could do thi. If Rachel Berry could face your wrath in all it’s glory, you could open a damn door.

Getting a firmer grip of the handle, you too a deep breath and finally opened the door. You had spent so long being a coward, now was the time to change that. So, taking the last plunge needed, you stepped inside, with the music getting louder, and the laughter hitting your ears, and with the scared schoolgirl look pushed firmly behind a mask of indifference.

You were Quinn Fabray, for goodness sake, you could open a door and walk into a room. What the hell was wrong with you?

*0*0*

The thing about opening a door, is one has to walk through it. And you did. You walked through. But once on the other side, you’re faced with the unknown, and that moment of pure terror, that moment of sheer anxiety had you regretting it, had you wishing you had remained in your dorm, hidden from the world.

And then your heartbeat was no longer the only thing you could hear in your ears, but now the sound of the music that had been playing, and you could finally focus your gaze, and it wasn’t as terrifying as you thought it would be.

The room itself was most likely similar to that of all the other classrooms on the floor. It had tiny windows, up by the ceiling, which were covered in muck and dust, hiding what you assumed was a main thoroughfare outside, as you could make out people walking by. There were still the telltale signs it used to be a classroom, too, with boards on the wall, and the layout screaming ‘educational use’, but there were hardly any desks in sight.

Instead, the place had been kitted out with couches and seats, the aforementioned music player, which actually was so much more than that now that you looked. It was a record player, hooked up to speakers, with boxes of vinyls, and several laptops all plugged in, surrounded by a ridiculous amount of cables, all leading somewhere, and there were at least three people crowding round, all playing about. But even with them tampering with the music, David Bowie’s Modern Love blasted from the speakers unaffected.

It was loud enough to

“Hey! You made it!” Mike grinned, coming over, and you shot him a smile.

“Yeah,” you replied, still feel anxious, but the feeling easing the longer he looked at you. He genuinely seemed pleased, and that was a relief. He wasn’t just being polite. His offer was genuine.

“Come on in,” he waved, and you moved closer, shutting the door behind you, and ignoring the few heads that lifted to see what was going on. “You’re just in time, too.”

“Oh?”

“We’re having a bit of a competition soon, hence all the commotion,” Mike said, pointing over to the cover where all the music was located. “Whether you realise it or not, you’re surrounded by music geeks, and in a few minutes we’ll be deciding who is the King Geek of our little motley crew.”

“Queen,” another voice added, and you turned to see who had joined the conversation. “I intend to take my crown back,” she stated, smirking, causing Mike to roll his eyes.

You recognised her voice, or at least, it sounded somewhat familiar, but you couldn’t place it. And you’d definitely never met her before; you would have remembered her. You doubted anyone would be able to forget her.

She looked mildly pissed off, but still stunningly attractive, with a harsh gaze that made you lick your lips and try to clear the dryness in your throat. You were used to girls like her, ridiculously beautiful, but back then, when you had to deal with them, the HBIC was in charge; now you just felt like a floundering fool, unable to string a sentence together.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked Mike, her eyes sweeping over you once, like you weren’t even worth looking at, and okay, wow, that was one way to kill the attraction.

“Quinn, this is Santana. Santana, this is Quinn,” Mike said, introducing the two of you. You gave her a polite smile, but it wasn’t returned. Instead, she turned back to Mike to speak.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t bring in strays.” It was said in a way that was meant to make you uncomfortable, and it worked, because you wanted to head for the door, but you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction.

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t be a bitch,” Mike shot back, smiling as he spoke, trying to appease the situation.

“I made no such agreement,” Santana replied, waving her hand dismissively at him.

“Of course not, that would be too much hard work for you.” Mike ignored Santana’s glare, which prompted her to add something further, only this time, she actually turned to you.

“Nice meeting you,” she said, with no inclination whatsoever that she was pleased to meet you at all.

“Likewise,” you replied, equally as icy, cocking your eyebrow as you did so.

She cocked her head in return, just ever so slightly, and a smirk played on her lips. So she definitely understood that you were going to challenge her if she pulled that shit, and apparently, was amused by it.

Without another look, Santana turned and walked away; heading towards the group around the laptops and speakers. She was welcomed like the Messiah, which was very weird, but whatever, you were new, you’d learn why people flocked to her when she stepped up to a dj deck in time.

“You have to excuse Santana. She takes a while to get used to,” Mike said, giving you an apologetic look. You shook your head, and fobbed it off, not wanting to make a fuss about it. You had dealt with girls like Santana before, and you suspected you always would, so there was no reason to cause an problem.

“Forget about it. So what do they do, exactly?” you asked, pointing back towards the group that Santana went to join.

“Basically, they all like to think they’re the next hotshot dj, which they’re not,” he teased, “so they each get a minute and a half to mix the sickest song they can, and they have to use a pre selected song at some point during it. And I think today, we have about seven contenders who are going to give it a shot.”

“Is this something you all do often?”

“About once a week.” Nodding, you were stopped from asking any more questions when the music was cut short. It was the call to attention the room was waiting on, and like everyone else, you sat watching, waiting, wondering what you were about to witness.

Honestly, you weren't quite sure what to expect. Mike had told you enough to guess what would happen, but when the intro to the song finally kicked in, it was not at all like you had anticipated.

The song was some old school rock cover that everyone knows the beat to and the lyrics, but hardly anyone can remeber the name of, and you assumed watching it all play out was going to be boring, dull, and not at all that interesting, but after a few guitar riffs, several people nodding their head to the beat, were all too happy when the song mixed with another, giving them a stronger beat to dance to, and then you understood how they based who was the winner.

The dancers amongst the group, and there seemed to be quite a few, were trying their level best to stick with it, to dance it out, but the song was too disjointed, the mix felt sloppy, and it showed. They were definitely not the winner. But instead of a complete pause, the second mix began right off the back of the other, bouncing in, playing the pre selected track, but with another backing beat, increasing the tempo, and that seemed to meet the dancer's expectations, and it pulled a much bigger response.

You could see the smug smile on the guy's face, but Santana's cocky smirk was making you think she had something much better planned. You figured she wouldn’t look that confident if she didn’t have something good up her sleeve, and you were definitely not wrong.

By the time it was her turn, the last in the group, Mike was up dancing with another dancer, claiming this was one of the best ways them freestyle. You could definitely see why.

And then the mix changed, and it caused everyone to stop, freezing on site, and looking to the mixing tables, where Santana had completely changed things up. The original rock song guitar riffs were back, but she’d mixed it with another set, from another familiar song you didn’t know the name of, and it sounded rather mesmerising.

So much so, all dancing had stopped, but when the song kicked in after a few more bars, the response was instantaneous. With the addition of at least two other songs you knew but could not recognise from the way she'd stripped them down, she definitely had a crowd pleaser, and Mike was shaking his head like he knew that would happen.

You couldn't help but look to see how Santana was responding to the downright victory taking place, but her smirk was gone, and she was focusing intently on what was in front of her. By the time she was done, there were cheers of applause and laughter, congratulating her on a job well done, and you kinda hated that she was able to pull something like that off so effortlessly, blowing everyone else out of the water. But at least now you could see where her cockiness came from. She was talented, you’d give her that.

As if she knew you were watching, she lifted her head, ignoring the many requests she was getting for a copy of the full mix, and looked straight at you, raising her eyebrow as she did so. It was a page right out of your book, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her, earning a smile. Whatever, you weren’t suddenly going to start fawning at her feet just because she knew how to mix a few songs together.

"Was that good or was that good?" Mike teased, grinning brightly.

"That was...that was pretty awesome," you laughed, biting your lip, because it really was, and you were really glad you were able to witness it.

"I'm glad. Now, come one, dance with me. We have about thirty minutes until half of these losers have to go to class, but I think that's enough time to maybe convince you to come back here sometime?” he looked at you in question, but instead of answering, you accepted his hand to dance.

His smile was contagious, and you were definitely willing to come back. You actually felt welcome, for a change. Not like some stranger in the crowd. Not like a stray in the corner of the room. You felt like you were part of it. You felt involved.

It was a pretty damn awesome change.

*0*0*

Lying in bed that night, you felt a like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You felt a little easier, a little lighter, a little happier. And if all that had happened thanks to one good encounter with people your own age, then good lord, you were pathetic. But a good pathetic, you guessed.

Some of the loneliness had ebbed away, and while you still couldn’t sleep, at least you had the day to relive over in your head, where you could just enjoy it one more time.

Making it even better, with your headphones in, your roommate sound asleep, Rosario Cruz played one of the songs used in the mix-off earlier; Black Betty by Ram Jam. It had you smiling, but also recalling Santana’s mix, and okay, you would have prefered to hear that instead, but maybe if you asked Mike, he’d get you copy of it. There was just no way you were going to ask Santana herself.

“Alright everyone,” Rosario began, “my last song tonight has been stuck in my head all day, so why not share the pain? Nah, you’ll all love it, trust me. When have I steered any of you wrong?” You could hear the beginning of the song repeating in the background as Rosario set it up to play. “Okay, goodnight from me, and good morning to you, this is Modern Love by David Bowie; because apparently this song isn’t the only thing I can’t get out of my head. Enjoy and I’ll see you all again bright and early tomorrow.”

The familiar intro began, and you found yourself smiling once again. Lying back in your bed, you looked up at the ceiling, and okay, yeah, Rosario’s set could still fill you with such joy and comfort, but with the added memory of the people you met, the fun you had, the song, it made things so much better.

Maybe, just maybe, things were finally going to turn around for you.

You could only hope.

 

_It's not really work_

_It's just the power to charm_

_I'm still standing in the wind_

_But I never wave bye bye_

_But I try, I try_

_Modern Love_

 


	4. Cruel To Be Kind

 

*0*0*

It was another quiet day for you at Yale, with your usual classes taking place and more assignments to finish, and the monotonous day to day was grating on you. Which was why you thought it best to liven up the quiet day, and the best way to do that was call up the most talkative person you knew so there would no longer be anymore quiet, just her, talking and talking, and gosh, you had missed it.

Rachel knew how to lift you up off the ground like no other, and as you walked through the quad, you relished in being able to speak with her. She was busy, like you, so these moments were important; especially when Skype sessions were being cancelled for the sake of boys.

“I know that I missed out Skype session last week, but I’d still really love to come up this weekend. I haven’t seen you in so long, Quinn, and I miss you,” Rachel said, sounding genuinely upset at having ditched you for a date.

“I miss you too,” you confessed, because you did. Your fourteen year old self would have been horrified to hear you utter those words to Rachel Berry, of all people, but she had become your best friend in the wake of the accident, and you never thought you’d miss her as much as you did.

Just seeing a familiar face would do you the world of good. It would really break the monotonous Yale life.

“So is that a yes? Can I come up this weekend?” she asked, eagerly.

“Yeah, of course.” You really couldn’t turn her down. The last time you had this conversation you may have suffered a very public, and embarrassing, panic attack. But that panic was nowhere near as bad as what it had been. Yes, it was still there, but you weren’t freaking out. You might not have a party filled weekend ahead of you, but at least you had friends you could introduce Rachel to. And it was true, because since that day with Mike and the others, they had become your friends.

Granted, Mike was the one you knew the most, but you had also been introduced to Tina, who was also really quite, and you wondered if she was another ‘stray’ (as Santana had put it) Mike had brought along. Her stutter made her shy, but when she opened up, she was really rather sweet, and you had gone to the library with her twice to study. She was another freshman, and it was nice to have another person to band together with.

There were also Mike’s friends, who were partly becoming your friends. Sam, who you had met at the library before, although briefly, had taken a shine to you. He seemed eager to talk to you when you went to B02, the number of the classroom in the communications building, and he was always happy to share some ridiculous anecdote with you.

Of course, then there was Santana. She was an entity all on her own. She had definitely not warmed to you. If anything, she was ruder than before. You sort of expected it, because she was downright frightening to Tina. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Santana had tortured the poor girl. But apparently that was just her personality. And it was easy enough to ignore her in B02. There were usually a lot of people hanging about, whether they be studying or mixing music, practicing dance moves, or trying to organise some new activity. Santana was able to move from one circle of people to the other, and that meant you actually didn't spend much time with her at all. Thank God.  

So knowing that you weren't a complete loner, that in the week and a half that had passed since you had last spoken to Rachel, you had met people who could be your friends, who looked like they were becoming your friends, and that was a great step forward.

Therefore, saying no to her was not an option. Not when you had less to hide, unlike last time.  

"Yeah, of course, come on up on Saturday morning, and I'll meet you at the train station. We can go to lunch, or brunch, and then head back here, to drop your stuff before doing whatever you want,” you answered, knowing Rachel was waiting with bated breath.

"Really?!" she sounded almost surprised by your response, and you felt a little guilty for holding off that long on arranging a visit like this. You were justified in your reasons, but it wasn’t like you could tell Rachel that.

"Yeah, please. It would be amazing to see you."

"Great! I can't wait!" You laughed at her enthusiasm, shaking your head, but the feeling was mutual, because you really couldn't wait.

You knew she'd make you feel like a million dollars, like she always was able to do, and that infectious optimism was something you definitely needed. Especially when your insomnia was eating at you so bad lately.

Rosario's radio set was at least giving you a decent distraction through the nights, and her song choices, as always, were phenomenal, giving you enough music to listen to on repeat for days, but still, it didn't feel enough. The insomnia could always take you to the dark place, the scary side of your mind, the one that replayed the crash, replayed lying in the wreck and not opting to crawl out of the vehicle, just letting the flames from it lick at your skin and the fumes knock you out. Rachel was always able to calm those thoughts, to put that storm back in the teacup and make sure you were reminded why you were there, why you were to keep going. So seeing her was a must.  

"Will there be any cute boys, Quinn? Because Rupert is being a little needy, and I mean, the date wasn’t that great, although he’s keen for another, so I don't want to be a rude, but he's not giving me good vibes. I could do with a decent distraction."

The question threw you, because you actually had no clue. You hadn't thought about boys, or whether they were cute, you had been so focused on friends, not their relationship status. But knowing Rachel, and knowing B02's crowd, you were sure there were bound to be some guys there she found appealing.  

"I have a few in mind for you."

"Perfect!" she cheered. "I'll be sure to look my best, and you can introduce me." You knew that no matter how Rachel looked, she’d still be a complete knockout, although she’d never think it herself.

"Of course."  

"Thank you, Quinn.," Rachel said, a little less enthusiastically, almost as if she was giving you one of those smiles, the ones that made you feel like she would take all your pain for herself if she could. "I really can't wait to see your world in Yale, and I'm so glad we can still be friends."

"I think after I stopped your shotgun wedding by getting hit by a truck, we have to be best friends for life. There has to be something in the small print that says something like that," you teased, trying to lighten the mood, because you could have probably saved yourself the heartache of a car crash if you had been friends with Rachel years before the accident even took place.

"Oh yeah? Maybe I should look at the small print in more detail, see what else it says; like, whether it's acceptable to set you up with a blind date? Surely there is something in there about looking out for one’s best friend’s romantic interests."

"I'm not coming to New York this weekend, you're coming here, and I doubt you'd be able to pull something like that off in such a short span of time." And thank god you weren’t going to New York, because she’d definitely have you double dating with her and some random guy.

"True, but I could, you know. I know some amazing guys that would adore you."

"Shame on them,” you shot back, shaking your head.

"Quinn,” she whined, and you fought a smile as you rolled your eyes again.

"I'm honestly happy being single. There's enough going on up here without adding mindless sex and boyfriends into the mix." Plus, explaining your sexual fluidity was not a conversation to be had over the phone.

"If you're sure..." she began.

"I'm sure, thank you." Best to put an end to it quickly.

"Okay, but just say the word."

"Never." Rachel laughed and you found yourself doing the same, because you just knew she probably had two guys on speed dial for you. It was sweet, but unnecessary.  

Dating, sex, it wasn't something...you had too many reminders strewn across your body...stretch marks, scars, jagged edges of skin torn up against others, that just...if you could hardly look at yourself naked, how could you expect someone else to? And never mind the pain that would probably go with it. That back pain and hip pain would not be worth the orgasm, of that you were sure.  

Moving on to talk more about Rupert, Rachel's mediocre date, and his creepiness, you walked to the communications building with a smile on your face, and hung up shortly before heading inside B02, bidding her goodbye and promising to see her in a few days. Just talking with Rachel had completely lifted your mood, and for once, you weren't anxious when you opened the damn door to head inside.  

Seeing her really would be amazing.

*0*0*

B02 was slowly becoming your favourite place to be. Mike had encouraged you to come along whenever you felt like it. He explained how many of the people who used it worked at the college radio station, and as that building was so tiny, there was no place for them to just relax, try out new sets, and chill, that they had commandeered that room. Apparently, it was allowed, although not formally written anywhere, and unless they did anything crazy, they were free to stay.

You couldn’t understand how the place hadn’t become a new hang out for everyone to go to, but it seemed to be the same people turning up all the time. And slowly, you were becoming one of them.

The first time you headed in, and Mike was not there, you stopped short. But Tina was there, and she waved you over, so you could sit with her and talk. And then there was Sam, who did the same on the day neither Mike nor Tina were there. So it wasn’t like you were ever alone. But even if you were, you had come to feel a lot more comfortable with B02, you couldn’t imagine yourself feeling like you weren’t wanted or welcome.

Or rather, you hadn’t experienced that yet.

“Looks like your knight in shining armour isn’t here,” Santana drawled, running her hand along the back of the couch as she walked passed it, coming to sit down in the armchair to the right of you.

“I can see that,” you remarked, not looking up from the book in your lap. No one you really knew, apart from her, was there, so you thought it best to do some coursework while you waited on Mike. He was coming, after all. He’d text you to let you know as much.  

“And yet, you’re still here,” she continued. You didn’t feel the need to reply to that, merely humming in acknowledgement, which obviously wasn’t the response Santana was looking for.  “Why?” she finally asked, and you fought an eye roll at where this conversation was going.

“Are you saying I’m not welcome unless he’s here?” Looking directly at her, you awaited a response, but it wasn’t instantaneous. She mulled over what you had said for a second, before sliding forward in the chair, leaning closer to you, as if revealing a secret.

“I’m saying you’re the stray cat who has found a temporary home; but the day you bring home fleas, you’ll be back out on the street. You’re a dime a dozen, so enjoy your time here while it lasts.”

“Why am I getting the impressive you feel threatened by me?”

“Threatened? Please,” she scoffed.

“Is this about Mike?” you asked, jumping to the only reasonable conclusion you could. “If you think I’m going to steal your crush, you’re wrong. I’m not interested in Mike romantically.” Santana’s sudden laughter was not the response you expected, and you frowned, waiting for the joke to be revealed.

“Oh, honey, you think I’m interested in Mike ‘romantically’?” she mocked, shaking her head. “Let’s just say, he’s really, really, not my type.”

“So why the hostility?”

“I don’t like you.”

“You dont’ know me,” you shot back.

“Nor do I want to.” Rising from the chair, Santana brushed down her clothing, removing non existent creases.

“Really? Because you seem to be going out of your way to talk to me.” That had her freezing for a moment.

“Don’t confuse my hostility with curiosity.”

“There’s no confusion.”

You could see Santana wanted to argue more, she wanted to force her point, but if she did, it would tell you that there was something more to her actions. Which left her with only one option; to walk away with a scowl on her face.

That was probably not the last you’d hear from her.

And okay, she said Mike wasn’t her type, but what about Sam? He had shown interest in you, and he was sweet and charming, and you couldn’t understand what a shark like Santana would do with a puppy like Sam, but maybe she wanted him. Maybe she was threatened, scared he was going to forget about her for you.

It made sense, and it was really the only reason why she could detest you so much already. You really hadn’t done anything.

Then again, she was like that with Tina, too.

Perhaps it was just her crappy personality.

“Sorry I’m late, I stopped by my dorm to pick this up,” Mike spoke, coming up behind you, pulling you from your thoughts. You were going to say it was fine, but he was handing you an envelope, and it was then you clicked what he said.

“What is it?” you asked, holding it in your hand, not sure what was going on.

“Open it,” he said, encouraging you to do just that.

Not seeing the harm in doing so, and oddly curious about what it was, you began opening the envelope and taking out the piece of folded paper that was within. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Santana watching your interaction with Mike. You tried not to let it bother you, but it did. You could only hope she wasn’t aware of such a fact.

Opening up the piece of paper, you read down the list in front of you, frowning.

“It’s a list of songs,” you said, lost in the purpose. “I’m not following.” Mike grinned like that made perfect sense.

“This Saturday, here, karaoke night. Pick a song, because you’re going to be singing,” he explained, keying you in, finally.

“Karaoke?” you repeated, smiling despite yourself. Rachel was going to die of excitement when she found out.

“Yep. Now, song choice?” he rubbed his hands together, excited to help you pick, but you needed one more thing.

“On one condition,” you said, causing him to halt for a moment.

“Name it.”

“Can I bring a friend?” Mike’s grin widened, and he nodded enthusiastically, before flying into which ones he thought would be good to sing for a laugh, versus the ones that could work well with your voice.

When you finally had a song in mind, one you would not tell him about, despite his begging and pleading, you sent Rachel a text to let her know. If you didn’t, and you sprung it on her, she’d be livid. She wouldn’t have time to prepare her voice, or some nonsense like that, so best to cover all your bases.

“This is going to be the best weekend ever!” she texted back, almost instantaneously.

You certainly hoped it was, even if the all too familiar feeling of eyes on you was a little disconcerting at times. All the feelings of not being welcome, of not fitting in, that Santana had resurfaced were gone by Mike’s simple gesture, and surely that good atmosphere would override any dark cloud she brought around to try and dampen your time there. Surely.

*0*0*

All thoughts of Santana and the weekend were pushed from your mind that evening, as you attempted to get some sleep. Or rather, you wished that had been pushed from your mind, but they weren’t. They were camping front and centre, refusing to move.

It was silly, because she was just one girl; one girl with a look that burned you more than you’d care to admit, and a mouth that was filled with barbs. She was cruel, she was mean, and you hadn’t done anything to deserve it. But there was no point trying to understand why Santana was behaving the way she was. You had an amazing weekend to look forward to, and only one more day before Rachel would be there with you. Santana shouldn’t be the one at the forefront of your mind, even if the main thought was about punching her in the face.

You really just didn’t want her to ruin the weekend, to spoil things when Rachel was there. You knew Rachel was probably expecting some amazing, crazy, reckless party, which was somehow her style now, and it was going to be strange for her to see that was not your style at all. She’s still have fun, you knew that, but you didn’t want her to see the cracks in your mask. You didn’t want her to know that you barely knew Mike, Sam, and Tina, and that they were just new friends, ones you were still getting to know. And Santana, Santana was the one who could reveal those cracks in your mask, who could pull the thread that unweaved the careful web of lies you’d made.

All the worrying, all the different scenarios of how it could play out meant that you really weren’t going to get much sleep, and taking advantage of that fact, you did what you normally did when you couldn't sleep; you listed to Rosario’s 2am to 6am set.

You had missed a little bit of it, but were still able to listen to the rest, and it calmed you like it always did. How it had that affect, how she had that effect, you didn’t know, but it was almost instantaneous. Riding out the the calming waves, with each new song, you could feel your body slowly but surely getting sleepy, and it was just towards the end of her set that you knew sleep was within reaching distance.

But you needed to hear her last song. It was a must.

“My next song, and last song of the night, is a personal favourite. As my friends know very well, it sums me up completely, so have a little insight into yours truly. And with that, it’s goodnight from me, and good morning to you; this is Nick Lowe’s Cruel To Be Kind. Enjoy, and I’ll be back with you tomorrow.”

It was a song you hadn’t heard in years, and smiling to yourself, you knew you’d be singing it all day. Like always, it was definitely worth being awake to hear Rosario’s set. And with the rest of the song playing out in your headphones, you finally fell into slumber, at long last. No more worries, no more second guessing, you could just breathe easy, and all thanks to Rosario.

 

_I do my best to understand, dear_

_But you still mystify and I want to know why_

_I pick myself up off the ground_

_To have you knock me back down again and again_

_And when I ask you to explain, well, you say_

_You gotta be_

_Cruel to be kind in the right measure_

_Cruel to be kind it's a very good sign_

 

*0*0*

 

 


	5. Always On My Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed the name of story - previously ‘In Love, In Fear, In Hate, In Tears’ - which was going to be an angst ridden, downright depressing story. And now, the tone has changed. Not to say there won’t be angst, because I can’t help myself sometimes, but it’s lighter now, and it deserves a more fitting title.

 

*0*0*

The train station was as busy as you expected it to be that early in the morning on a Saturday, and shuffling through the other passengers and commuters, you made your way to where Rachel was standing, luggage in tow.

You had tried to be there early, but your back was killing you when you woke up, and you needed longer getting ready, so were held up.

However, your lateness didn’t bother Rachel, by the looks of things, because when she finally saw you making your way towards her, she broke out into a ridiculous grin and practically squealed. It had you affectionately rolling your eyes, and holding your arms out, for her to hug you.

Finally having her there, right in front of you, after months of being apart, was just what you needed.

“I’ve missed you,” she smiled, pulling back from the hug, looking sad as well as happy, and there were tears in her eyes, which made no sense, but there were tears in your eyes too, so it suddenly did.

“I’ve missed you too, and it’s so good to have you hear.” You gave her another hug, needing her to know that her presence was the best thing ever, before pulling back. “Now, let’s get out of here. I have lots of places to show you, before I can show you off tonight.”

“Karaoke still on?” she asked, looking hopeful.

“Yep.” Mike had already sent you the text with the details, most of which you knew already, but you appreciated the reminder.

“I can’t wait!” Nor could you. It had been so long since you’d seen Rachel sing, and you just knew she would have been so much better now that NYADA had begun whipping her into shape.

Leaving the train station, the two of you went back to your dorm, dropped off Rachel’s luggage, and then went exploring. She wanted to see everything, from where you ate, where you walked to your classes, where you hung out with your friends, and then wanted to do more exploring across the city. You were happy to show her it all, even if each step made your back ache a little bit more, but that was nothing that couldn’t be dealt with.

The fact that she was smiling like she was, reminding you of how far you’d come, you were going to push through it. It was easier than you thought, but she was the best distraction from pain you’d found yet, and you were glad that still hadn’t changed.

Rachel was still Rachel, New York might have changed her a little, but she was still as amazing as she was the day you both parted ways to go to college, and she was still as great a friend, which was exactly what you needed.

*0*0*

The noise from B02 could be heard from up the hall, and Rachel was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. It did fill you with some relief, knowing that she was excited about the party ahead, and most likely going to have a good time. At least you didn’t have to worry about that.

What you were worried about was standing three feet from the door when you came in. Granted, Mike was there, Tina was there, Sam was there, all smiling, all saying hi, all introducing themselves to Rachel, so it wasn’t too bad.

But as usual, Santana knew how to put you on edge, and you now felt justified in your worrying.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Santana piped up, glancing Rachel over, and then back to you with a smirk on her lips. You rolled your eyes, and then looked to see if Rachel had heard her. She hadn’t, thank god, as that would bring up too many unanswerable questions. “Who’s your friend?” Santana asked directly, moving closer, getting in your space, and gaining Rachel’s attention.

“Rachel,” you began, giving your true friend a smile, “this is Santana. Santana, this is Rachel.” The latter sentence was clipped, and the look you gave her spoke volumes, but in her typical style, her smirk didn’t shift an inch.

“Nice to meet you, Rachel. Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks.”

“Come on, you can help me by picking your poison from the poor selection we’ve managed to acquire,” Santana added, nodding her head towards a table at the back wall, and Rachel smiled, moving to follow her.

That was probably the nicest you’d seen Santana ever be. What the hell was she playing at? Not trusting her for one second, and fearing the worst of what she might be saying to Rachel, you made to follow, but Mike got in your way.

“You. Me. Karaoke?” he grinned, and you accepted his outstretched hand with a smile.

He had been so excited about singing with you, after you confessed you really didn’t want to sing solo, that you could hardly deny him. Plus, you were hoping this would be the only song you’d sing that evening, and if you could get it out the way sooner rather than later, that would be better all round.

Singing meant that you weren’t able to focus on Rachel and Santana, mainly Santana, but it also relaxed you enough that you went on to sing another song, this time with Sam, before handing the mic over to someone else. You weren’t a bad singer, but you knew you didn’t have as good a voice as others in the room, and it was better with the attention off yourself, and back onto others.

Of course, Rachel was gutted she didn’t get to sing with you, but with some convincing, she dropped the subject, and was all but ready to steal the mic so she could finally show the room what she was made of.

The girl loved a stage, loved to perform, and with such a friendly crowd, she was practically in her element as she belted out some of her best prepared songs. It wasn’t a party without Rachel hypnotising the room, and you were so very proud of her. She was going to be such a star, the world was just not ready for her yet.

Feeling someone come and stand next to you, you thought it was Mike, but then the perfume hit your senses, and you tensed. It wasn’t long after that Santana finally decided to speak, to put you even more on edge, and to bring back those violent tendencies you always seemed to get when she was around.

“Girl’s got a set of lungs on her. I wonder if she’s that vocal in bed,” Santana mused, and you shot her a glare.

“What the hell are you doing?” you bit out, your head spinning from her words.

“I told you, Mike’s really not my type.” And then the penny finally dropped.

“Girls...girls are your type,” you uttered, taken by surprise, because that meant...that meant…Rachel.

“More specifically, girls that aren’t destined to be the next Stepford Wife.” The dig was weak at best, but you got the point she was trying to make. “Your friend though,” Santana hummed through her smirk. “Now she’s a lot of fun.”

“Don’t,” you growled, suddenly feeling very possessive over Rachel.

“Don’t what, Quinn? What am I doing?” The mock innocence was more infuriating than you thought it would be.

“Leave her alone.” That caused Santana to chuckle, and then she was back in your personal space, her body pressed up against the side of yours, and you froze.

“Hate to break it to you,” she whispered into your ear, causing you to break out in goosebumps at her breath tickling your skin. “But she seems mighty struck by me. Even if I were to leave her alone, she wouldn’t give up on me that easy. She’s curious. I’d guess she’s been to this rodeo before, but if not, that’s even better. College girls experimenting are just so much fun.”

You wanted to claw her eyes out, and punch her in the face, simultaneously.

Rather than start a fight, which you’d most definitely lose because your ribs were killing you, your back was aching, and you probably couldn't defend yourself even if you tried, you stepped back from Santana and shook your head at her, before moving away.

She was going to do whatever she wanted, like usual, and nothing you could say would deter her. There was no point standing around arguing with her. Not when there was fun to be had.  

And that was joining Mike and Tina by the decks, where they were deciding on what song to sing together. Tina was pulling for classic ballad, but Mike wanted something a little more upbeat. Rachel had finished singing, finally relenting and giving the mic to someone else, but you felt sorry for them, because they were never going to top her performance. However, rather than seek you out, which you expected her to do, she went to Santana.

Throwing your two cents into Mike and Tina’s conversation was a good enough distraction from the way Santana and Rachel were now dancing together, far too close for your liking, and that bitter taste in your mouth was something that definitely needed to be washed away with a drink.  

But, you were going to have to take your pain meds when you got back to your dorm, so water for you.  

"Don't want anything stronger?" Sam asked, waving a bottle of god only knows what. None of them were twenty one yet, so they had to be getting cheap booze from the back of a van or something. Whatever. You weren't going to be inflicting it on your liver tonight.  

"No thanks. I'm actually not feeling that great, best to avoid it."

"Smart choice. And do you need anything? I can I can go and get you something, a bucket, trash can, something to be sick in?"  You laughed, fobbing him off, and shook your head.

"It’s not like that, I’m not going to be sick. But thank you, I appreciate the offer."

"No problem. Call if you need me, though." Sam gave you a mini salute and then took the drinks he had just made up back over to the couches, where the rest of the group were waiting on them.  

It was in that moment of solitude that you finally felt all the pain in your body. There was nothing pulling your attention, and you could assess the damage. You were going to need to lie down, to take something, anything, to rid you of the pain, and you were going to need to sleep. With each breath, you could feel a burning pain; and that was never a good sign. Because then you could smell the gasoline as it spilled across the road, and God, your back was excruciating, and the blood was streaming down your face, in your eyes, in your mouth, and you felt your stomach churn.

"Sure you don't need that bucket. You've gone green." Sam murmured, coming back over, and it pulled you from your thoughts, as if waking from a dream suddenly, startled.

"No, no, thanks. I'm fine. I think I'm going to-" you didn’t get a chance to finish, before Rachel was standing next to you, her hand on your arm.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking at you with worry in her eyes. “You didn’t look good for a moment there.”

You did not want to ruin her night, too. So shaking your head, you put on your brightest smile, and lied your ass off.  

"I didn’t look good? Please, I think I’m the hottest person in the room,” you teased.

“I’d agree,” Sam piped up, and Rachel laughed at him, rolling her eye, before looking back to you.

“Honestly, I'm fine, don't worry. I just have some back pain, it took me by surprise. There is nothing to worry about."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Please. Now, what are you drinking? Sam here is doing a pretty good job as bartender." Sam grunted in agreement in the background, and that was enough to pull Rachel's attention from you. Thank God.  

You knew that you couldn't head away immediately, so instead, you made sure Rachel got another drink, and then headed back to the couches with her for a seat. There weren’t any seats available, so you were going to sit on the floor, but then she was whispering something to Mike, and he moved out of the armchair to sit in front of it. Rachel then planted you in the seat, albeit rather carefully, and sat on the arm rest. All the while, Santana was watching with a curious frown, and you swallowed the lump in your throat, hoping she wouldn’t ask.

She didn’t, and that one was less thing you had to worry about.

It was another hour or so later when you finally needed to go. The pain meds took time to kick in, so you didn’t want to leave it too late before taking them, as the pain was only getting worse. Excusing yourself, you went to dump your cup in the bin. Sam was back at the drinks table, and rose his eyebrows in question.

"I think I'm going to head away," you explained, only to receive an understanding nod.

"About time. You look like you need to lie down."

"That's exactly what I need." And you couldn’t wait to get back to your dorm already.

"Take care,” he added, just as you were about to move away.

"I will, thanks." You gave him a quick wave, and then headed back towards the couches.

“Rach, I’m going to go, are you coming or...?” you asked, leaving it an open question so she didn’t feel obligated.

“I’m…” Biting her lip, Rachel moved from her seat, now the armrest of Santana’s chair, to answer you without calling across a bunch of conversation. “I’m actually going to stay a little bit longer, Santana and I-” That was enough for you to hear.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain.” Please. Don’t explain. You could not listen to the end of that sentence.

“Are you sure? I mean-” Rachel frowned, looking concerned, but you waved her off.

“No. It’s fine. Honestly. Have fun.”

“But you’re unwell, I should -”

“I’m just going to lie down and sleep. You won’t be able to do anything for me.” She bit her lip, and frowned, as if not buying it, but she knew better. “Come on, you remember those days where I just needed to sleep it away. This is one of those instances. Plus, you’ll have a lot more fun here than being stuck in my dorm room at eleven o’clock on a Saturday night.” She accepted the jest with a smile.

“Okay, if you’re sure. Thank you, Quinn.” Giving you a careful hug, you smiled at her and then went to make your leave.

Only, between you and your exit was Santana.

By the door, Santana was standing, looking far too proud. She’d obviously moved there just to piss you off, and you knew she was going to make some snarky comment as you were going to leave. So, steeling yourself for it, you made to leave.

And you were right, because once you were within two feet of her, Santana spoke.

“So she’s not coming home with you, but rest assured, she’ll certainly be coming with me.” Her smirk was back, and the double meaning was not missed by you.

“If you hurt her, I’ll gut you,” you murmured, staring straight ahead, out the door and into the hallway.

“Ooh, kitty has claws. Meow,” Santana mocked, and you knew if you didn’t get away from her, you’d smash her face in. Not wanting to say anything else, you walked away, trying to shake off the anger and frustration.

It was then you heard a voice call after you.

“Q! I’ll walk you,” Mike said, sticking his head around the door, calling out over the loud music; and you dropped the glare on your face, to give him a thankful smile.

“You don’t need to-”

“Please, I insist. Campus can be creepy at night. And it’s no bother.”

“Thank you,” you replied, and the two of you made your way towards the exit. You definitely felt safer with Mike there, but you also wondered if that was just a plausible excuse Rachel had given him to ensure you got back alright.

You doubted she’d bring up the crash, it wasn’t something either of you spoke about in great detail, and she certainly wouldn’t share that information with other people, but she’d definitely given Mike some impression that you needed looking after, as it were.

Normally, that might have pissed you off, but tonight, you really appreciated it.

*0*0*

The following morning, you were up and showered by the time Rachel arrived back at your room. She looked well rested, with no obvious signs of sex hair and hickies, and didn’t smell like a brothel, so you were somewhat relieved. Maybe you could pretend her and Santana never happened. That would probably be best.

Giving her time to freshen up and change, the two of you opted to go out for breakfast, and headed to a place nearby. It wasn’t until the food had been wolfed that you were able to ask about her evening. And there was no other way than the direct approach.

“So how was last night for you?” You tried to play it off as innocent curiosity, but deep down, you were desperate to know. Why, you weren’t sure, but that was a question for another time.

“It was great,” Rachel began, smiling at you. “I had so much fun. Your friends are amazing,” she gushed. “Especially Santana! I can’t believe you didn’t mention her to me before. I was worried about you, I thought you had no one who would look out for you.”

“Santana looking out for me,” you hummed, feeling like you had just been dropped on your head.

“Yeah, knowing you have her in your corner if you ever need anything is great. I’m jealous, I’d love to have a friend like her in New York. Kurt doesn’t count, obviously.”

“I’m very lucky,” you deadpanned, but Rachel didn’t pick up on the sarcasm.

“You are. I’d steal her if I could.” Smiling at her, you shook your head, and then opted to ask another burning question.

“So what did you get up to after I left?” Fiddling with your napkin, in the hope to make it look less desperate, you awaited her response. But Rachel didn’t pick up on your nervousness, which was a relief.

“Santana showed me some of her mixes, and let me play around with others.” Of course she did. “Then she took off, so Tina and Mike walked me back, and I stayed in Tina’s room. Her roommate went away for the weekend, so it was free. I would have come back here, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Wait, what? Santana took off?

She took off. She left Rachel. You thought they were going to...well, it was obvious what you thought. And Santana had even alluded to that so…

Playing catch up to the end of Rachel’s sentence, you shook your head.

“No, no, you should have woken me, I wouldn’t...I’m sorry that I left.” Rachel’s smile softened and she looked guilty.

“No, Quinn, I get it. You were in pain. You had to go. It was actually really selfish of me to stay like that. So I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t be mad at Rachel. It wasn’t possible.

“Don’t be. I’m just glad you had a good time.”

“I had the best time. When can I come back?” You laughed and waved your hand.

“Whenever you want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but next time, you’re coming down to me.” That was fair, so you nodded, and then let her tell you just what the two of you would be doing.

For some reason, a reason you didn’t quite understand yet, you were feeling relieved. Relieved about Rachel and Santana. Relieved they didn’t...Just relieved. Yes, you were protective of Rachel, so that would explain it, but then again, she was a big girl so… Whatever, you were relieved, and sitting there, listening to her talk, you felt like things were finally back to normal for you.

That feeling continued throughout the day, and the tight hug goodbye at the train station didn’t deter it. Saying goodbye to Rachel was never easy, but if anything this weekend made you feel like things were really going to be alright. Your old world and your new one had met, and there had not been a tragic collision, with blood, glass, and gasoline strewn across the tarmac. Instead, Rachel was going away with the numbers of Sam, Mike, Tina and Santana, who she fully intended to keep in contact with, and she just knew she would.

How she was able to be such a social butterfly, you’d never know, but you wished you could be more like that.

In time, perhaps.

*0*0*

Rosario Cruz met you again that Sunday night, but this time, it was the repeat of Saturday’s show.

You had missed it, doped up on pain meds, sound asleep, dreaming of weddings and trucks. But now you had time, so with your headphones in, you settled in to enjoy. And you were not disappointed. Her set was gold all the way through, and then came her last song.

“Now time for a classic, which has over three hundred different recordings. The song is ‘Always On My Mind’ and I’m choosing the Pet Shop Boys version. Sorry Willie Nelson and Elvis, but this version I can dance to. And this song goes out specifically to the ghost of Grace Kelly, who I just don’t know what to do with, but safe to say, you’re always on my mind.” The intro of the song began playing in the background, but Rosario wasn’t done. “And hey, the rest of you, I don’t want any comments on Facebook about being pathetic or abuse of power. If I can’t play a song for a hot girl, then I’m playing this gig wrong. Now, it’s goodnight from me, good morning to you, enjoy!”

The song kicked in, and you found yourself smiling. It was a classic, like Rosario said, and damn near everyone knew the lyrics, or had at least heard one version of the song. But this was the first time you’d heard this version, and she was right, it was a good song to dance to.

Nodding your head along to the song, you wondered just how much stick she was going to get for dedicating the song, and whether this ghost of Grace Kelly was worth it. She probably was. Girls like Rosario Cruz weren’t the type to date the unseen, the wallflowers, the strangers in the crowd. But alas.

Someday, you’d get over the wallflower stage, of that you were sure, and maybe then, you’d find your own Rosario Cruz.

Until then, you were going to dance it out, because your roommate was gone, and the song really was just that good.

 

_Maybe I didn't treat you_

_Quite as good as I should_

_Maybe I didn't love you_

_Quite as often as I could_

_Little things I should have said and done_

_I never took the time_

 

_You were always on my mind_

_You were always on my mind_

 

_Tell me, tell me that your sweet love hasn't died_

_Give me,_

_One more chance to keep you satisfied_

_Little things that I should have said and done_

_I never took the time_

_You were always on my mind_

_You were always on my mind_

_*0*0*_

 

 


	6. There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

 

*0*0*

B02 was its usual chaotic self the following week after the party, and you expected nothing different. It was a welcomed chaos, though. One you were getting to know very well, and learning to love.

So when three quarters of the room packed up their stuff all at once and began heading for the door, you were wondering what the hell was going on.

Mike could see your confusion, and made to explain.

“The college radio station placed volunteers yesterday, and pretty much everyone here has a shift at some point. But there’s a meeting right now, we have to go over ground rules or whatever.”

“Everyone?”

“Almost.”

“Oh.” You looked down at your books and felt your throat start to close, your head rush with pain, and you really wanted the group to swallow you up whole. It just felt like another thing you were being left out of; another way to cut you out, and it was no one’s fault, but why did that keep happening to you?

“Hey, look, they’re always looking for people to help out. Plus, I can vouch for you, which should make it quicker, if you do want to help out there, that is,” Mike said, and you bit your lip and looked up at him.

“Yeah?” God, were you pathetic wanting to constantly be included?

“Yeah. We spend most of our time either here or there, so you should come join us. Unless you’d rather spend less time with us,” he joked, and you shook your head, smiling. “Great, I’ll pass it Joanne, she keeps us all in line, and I’ll let you know how it goes. But, it shouldn’t be an issue. I’ll text you later?”

“That would be great. Thanks, Mike.” He smiled at you one last time before grabbing his books and heading for the door, trailing after all the others.

And looking round the room, there were about three other people who hadn’t left, and that chaos you were learning to love was now sorely missed. It really wasn’t the same without everyone else.

Grabbing your things, you opted to go back to your dorm room. At least you could study in your pajamas there.

Sighing, you made the lonely walk back to the dorms and wondered how long this phase would last?

*0*0*

The following day, after a missed call and two texts from Mike, he invited you to come along to the radio station, to get a feel of the place, see if you were serious about helping out. It brought a smile to your face, and although it was getting cold outside, you made the trek across campus to its location.

The radio station really wasn’t what you thought it would be. It was a small building, tucked out of sight, and honestly, getting to it was completely confusing. You only found it because you recognised the figure walking twenty or so feet in front of you.

Santana was unmistakable, in the way she carried herself, her hair, her clothing, and for once, you were glad to see her. There was just no way you would have made it on time to meet Mike if it hadn’t been for her guidance, but you were never going to let her know that.

You weren’t even intending on letting her know you were behind her, but when she opened the door to head inside, she glanced round, and a smirk made her way over her features. You fought an eye roll at her predictability, and the teasing or cutting remarks you were no doubt about to receive, and moved to get the door she was holding open for you.

“Stalking me?” she asked, looking you over quickly, causing you to lose your battle and give her an eye roll.

“You wish,” you shot back, moving in front of her and heading down the cramped hallway.

Mike said the music library was straight down from the door, so you kept walking, fully aware Santana was on your heels this time.

"So what brings you here?" Santana asked, once you were through the main door and into the correct room.

"Mike said he could find me a job, or at least something to fill my time with." You weren’t too bothered with answering her questions, but your main goal was to find Mike. He was around there somewhere.

"What? No cheerleading? You look like a cheerleader." And Santana’s was enough for you to forget about Mike for a moment. What did she know?

"I was. I'm not anymore,” you said briefly, curtly, and trying not to show how curious you were as to where she got that information.

“And what, your pretty little roommate, Kitty, isn't good enough for you to hang out with?" So that was her name. God, you really needed to remember that the next time you saw her. You had been calling her Cady. No wonder she hated you.  

"Kitty doesn't like me."

"Can't see something like that stopping you. Hell, you don't like me and you keep showing up wherever I am,” Santana shrugged as she spoke, and you wondered what her angle was here.

"Kitty and her friends don't like me. Whereas I know Mike, Sam and Tina do." She was irrelevant, so you left her out.  

"I'm wounded, you don't think I like you?" she teased, and you shook your head in annoyance.  

"Whatever. Why do you care?" Hell, this was the most she'd spoken to you that hadn't be filled with venom and spite.

"Just wanted to know why you were trying to make yourself a permanent home. Didn't I already say you were the latest stray? Don't get too comfortable."

You hated that her words genuinely bothered you. There was reason why they should, because Mike, Sam and Tina were great. But, Santana was like the ringleader, and she clearly didn't like you one bit, so maybe she had sway over the others. Or, rather, she could terrify Tina enough to turn against you, and no doubt poison the others into thinking you were the next devil incarnate. She would know, of course, being the current devil incarnate.  

"Don't worry, I heard your message loud and clear. I'm just going to make the most of it while I can." Conversation over.

You made to walk away, but Santana stepped in front of you, blocking your path.  

"How's Rachel?" she asked, and you narrowed your eyes at her, wondering what the game was now.  

"Why don't you ask her yourself? She tells me the two of you have been in contact." That was the latest news, anyway. Santana said… and Santana thinks… it was truly maddening.

"We have, but I mean, after what happened with that guy, you think she's going to be okay?" Santana asked, and your blood ran cold. What was she talking about?

"What-" Her smirk was enough to make you feel ten times worse, and you stuttered some more before she stabbed the knife in further.  

"She didn't tell you?" she asked, in mock surprise. “God, I thought you’d know...that’s really-”

"Santana," you growled, and maybe it was your tone, your frantic eyes, or desperation, but her smirk fell.

"Rupert turned up at her door the other night, drunk and creepy. Kurt called the cops on him." Christ. How come Rachel hadn't told you? Was she okay? What was going on? "She was pretty shaken, but I think she's alright,” Santana went on to explain, before seeing the closed off look in your eyes and backpedaling. “Look, I'm sure she was going to tell to you.” But you shook your head, because Rachel wasn't one to keep secrets like that.  

Suddenly, you felt that all too familiar fear creeping up your spine. What if Santana was going to be a better friend to Rachel than you could ever be? There was the added bonus that she had never tortured Rachel. She hadn't cruelly turned the school against her. She hadn’t thrown slushie after slushie in her face. And obviously, Rachel appreciated her opinion more. So what did that say about you, when your closest friend was pulling away. Why would anyone want to be friends with you?

Why would anyone want you around?  

Feeling the pain shooting up your spine, you took a sharp, shaky breath, reaching out, grabbing a hold of the first thing in sight, which was the chest height cabinet, stacked with vinyls. Santana's eyes widened and she moved forward, reaching out, holding onto your arm to help steady you, but you didn't want her anywhere hear you, so you roughly pushed her away and shook your head

Your throat was closing in, the room was spinning and you needed the get the fuck out of there. The room was changing, becoming the smashed up wreck, with the flames getting closer, the smell getting stronger, and the blood covering your face. You were back in it, you were feeling it all over again, and then someone was holding your arm again, and the wreck was gone, and Santana was back.

“-to me? You okay?” You looked at her, and pulled back again, realising where you were, who you were there to see, and what were you doing?

God, who were you kidding? You couldn't do this! You couldn't be there! None of these people even cared! Why? Why did you convince yourself that you could be their friend? Santana had made it perfectly clear that you weren't welcome, and Mike probably felt sorry for the pathetic freshman who had no friends.  

"Are you okay?" Santana asked again, full of concern, but you could hardly hear her over the buzzing in your ears.  

"I have to go," you murmured, turning back towards the door, and stumbling forward.

"Whoa, Quinn, wait-"

"No, don't," you stated, frantically shaking your hands at her. You didn't want her pity. You didn't want anyone's pity. You needed to get out of there, immediately.  

Moving towards the door, you rushed through it and didn't look back.

You couldn’t look back.

*0*0*

Holing yourself up in your dorm room was actually a really effective way of avoiding the world, and although Kitty looked at you like you were a rabid creature, you realised that with a certain glare, it was enough to get her to stay clear of the room all day.

Yes, you’d been there and done this, hiding from the world, and that’s how you’d found salvation in Rosario Cruz, but this time was different. This time, you didn’t even want to listen to her, because hearing her voice made you feel pathetic for finding comfort in a complete stranger.

You really just wanted to bury yourself in your covers and never come out again. But even then, the outside world had ways of making itself known.

Your phone was a constant reminder of that, as it beeped and buzzed, rang and chimed, letting you know people were trying to get in touch.

Some of the numbers you recognised, some you didn’t. Rachel was the most prolific caller, however, and you knew you were going to have to speak to her. you couldn’t ignore her, not after everything the two of you had been through, and not when you were worried about how she was holding up after the Rupert incident.

So the next time her caller ID came up, you plucked up the courage and decided to take the plunge. It was better sooner than later, before she had the time to get mad at you for hiding away like a hermit.

“Hey,” you answered, your throat dry and your voice croaky, but that wasn’t a deterrent for Rachel.

“Hey!” she sounded so shocked, so surprised that you’d actually answered, that you felt even worse. “Are you okay? What happened? I didn’t get many details, Santana didn’t know what was going on-”

“Santana called you?” you asked, wondering why that was the most important thing you could think of at that moment.

“Yes, of course she did,” Rachel replied, like it was obvious, and you felt your mood change.

“Of course she did. Of course she called you,” you muttered, exasperated.

“Quinn,” Rachel said softly, and you pushed your hair away from your face, shrugging, and then wincing in pain. You back had been acting up ever since that day, and no amount of painkillers were helping you out. You were far too tense for anything to do you any good.

“What happened with Rupert?” you asked instead, not wanting to dwell on the Santana situation.

“I was going to tell you, and trust me when I say I ripped Santana a new one for that. She had no right-”

“Rach, what happened?” You couldn’t help but smile at that mental image, though. You really hoped she had ripped her a new one. That was somewhat satisfying to know.

“He came over, he was drunk and yelling, banging on the door, and Kurt called the cops. He didn’t get into the apartment. Nothing happened. And Santana only knows because I was on the phone to her.”

“You were on the phone to her?” That stung more than not being told about Rupert, and you didn’t know why. All previous satisfaction was gone, and back was its ugly cousin, contempt.

“Yeah, we’ve been talking,” she explained, like it was nothing.

“Oh.” It really wasn’t.

“About you.” Now, that had you interested.

“What?” you frowned, and had to rewind. She wasn’t making sense. Surely you had heard her wrong.

“She saw how you weren’t well at the party, and she was concerned something was wrong. She just wanted to be on the lookout for-” God no. No.

The last thing you needed was Santana finding out about the crash. She’d hang it over your head and destroy you with it, you couldn’t, you couldn’t have her knowing. No. No, please, God, please say Rachel hadn’t told her. Please.

“Rach, she hates me. She’s looking for ammunition to hurt me!” you said quickly, needing her to understand the seriousness of the situation.

“What? No. Santana doesn’t hate you,” Rachel scoffed, and that really wasn’t the reassurance that she was taking this serious.

“Trust me, she does. She’s been treating me like crap since I met her.”

“She...she didn’t mention that.”

“Of course she didn’t!” you cried out, aggravated.

“Please don’t yell at me, Quinn. You introduced her, and I assumed she was a friend. Plus, you never corrected me before now.” She had a point and you sighed.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want her knowing anything about me. You already mentioned I was cheerleader, didn’t you?” That had to be how she knew, and that had eaten up at you since she’d mentioned it.

“I may have…” Great.

“Yeah, well, that was one piece of information too much. I don’t want her knowing about Beth, being kicked out, the crash, any of it.” You had too many skeletons in your closet, along with yourself since you were still in there, keeping that part of your life to yourself.

Eventually you were going to have to come clean, but not yet. There was too much. You were still trying to find your feet.

“I won’t say a thing, and I haven’t, not about any of that,” Rachel was quick to assure you. “The cheerleader thing only came up because she commented how close we must have been in high school to stay in touch. I just said we weren’t friends until Senior Year, although we moved in the same circles for a while. That’s it.” You knew if there were more to the story, Rachel would confess, so you swallowed the lump in your throat, and accepted what she had to say.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, that must have been really scary for Rupert to turn up like that.” It was the closest you could get to moving onto another topic without leaving the last one in tatters. You didn’t want to talk about Rachel’s need fondness for Santana, though you suspected it would be lessened now that she knew Santana didn’t like you, but still. You needed something else, and you were worried about her. She was your best friend, after all.

“Quinn, I promise you, I’m fine. He’s...he’s messed up, but if he comes back, we call the cops again, and I can file a restraining order or something. Look at it this way, normally one has to wait until their a huge star before they’re stalked, I get mine before I’ve even landed on Broadway.” It was so twisted and so Rachel Berry, you laughed.

“You’ll be careful?”

“Yes, I’m being one hundred percent careful.” You knew that was probably the case. After all, Rachel was the one to always carry pepper spray and a rape whistle with her wherever she went.

When you finally ended the call, you felt a little better. A lot better. But you were still tired, you back still ached, and you could do with the rest of the week to pull yourself together.

It seemed like a decent compromise, one that would get you back out into the world, but instead of thinking too hard on that, you wanted a reprieve. You wanted an escape.

As you had been denying yourself the enjoyment of the last few days, you picked up your phone, loaded the internet browser, and plugged in your headphones. Lying back on the bed, wrapped up in the comforter, you pulled up Rosario Cruz’s latest radio show, from the night before.

The set was different, it was more subdued, and as was she. It wasn’t exactly the upbeat tone you were looking for, but just having the music, her voice, calming you into relaxation, you could deal.

“This..this next one, and last in our night’s show, is...is for...for the ghost of Grace Kelly. You know where your home is. Come back to it.” Rosario played the intro, before signing off. “This is The Smith’s There Is A Light That Never Goes Out. Goodnight from me, good morning to you. Enjoy.” It wasn’t said with her usual flare, her usual enjoyment, and actually, it almost sounded like she was in pain.

You briefly wondered if everyone was having a shitty week on campus.

But then hearing the song, letting it seep into you, take over you, you connected with it. You might have still been so lonely that it ached to your core, but with music like this, it was bearable.

Next week would be better, and if it wasn’t, well, you had The Smiths and Rosario Cruz making it possible to get through it.

_Take me out tonight_

_Where there's music and there's people_

_And they're young and alive_

_Driving in your car_

_I never never want to go home_

_Because I haven't got one_

_Anymore_

_Take me out tonight_

_Because I want to see people and I_

_Want to see life_

_Driving in your car_

_Oh, please don't drop me home_

_Because it's not my home, it's their_

_Home, and I'm welcome no more_

*0*0*

 

 


	7. Real Gone Kid

*0*0*

You were back to being scared to open a damn door, but this time, you knew what was on the other side.

You hadn’t returned to B02 since your freakout, and while you had finally answered Mike’s texts, you were a little uncertain about heading back. In all honesty, you would have been fine, if the thought of seeing Santana again wasn’t scaring the shit out of you. She was most likely going to be there at some point, and you couldn’t avoid her forever, even if you wished you could.

What you really wanted was to put that one day last week out of your mind.

You wanted to pretend it had never happened, and that she hadn't witnessed one of your worst freak outs to date. According to Rachel, who had been receiving texts from Santana, she wasn't going to say anything, but you really couldn't guarantee that. Santana was nothing if not predictable.

Rachel had also gone on to say that Santana was concerned, worried, and you scoffed upon hearing that. But looking back, she had tried to ensure you weren't going to fall flat on your face when you were dizzy from the panic, and alright, so she might possess just an ounce of concern for you. What she did with that concern was the main worry, though.  

You didn't want everyone to know what you had been before Yale. You didn't want your past becoming the stamp that everyone knew you as. You wanted to put Lima, and all that happened there behind you.  

Okay, that wasn't always going to be possible; like the days you could hardly walk three feet without feeling the stinging pain up your body and across your chest, but it was possible the rest of the time, so you were going to just hope none of it impacted you more than that.  

If people were to find out about the crash, they were going to want details, and given you were still living flashback to flashback, you didn't want to even broach that topic. Then there was Beth, and getting kicked out, and that stint of living in your car before you could live with Mercedes, and you really needed to keep all that private.  

So plucking up the courage to turn a simple handle, push a simple door open, was becoming harder and harder, because what if Santana pried and pushed and she wanted more details, and you caved. You would try not to, but panic could do crazy things to people.  

"Hey," a voice suddenly said, and you felt your body tense up. "You heading in?" Santana asked, walking up the hallway, only to lean next to the door with you. She could see your hand on the way to the handle, and she was giving you a curious look, but the shakes had already started, and you pulled your hand back.  

"Yeah, no. Get your ass inside," she suddenly said, seeing your retreat.

Grabbing your hand, Santana didn't think twice before opening the door and pulling you in. You were so dumbfounded by her move, you didn't pull back, but instead, followed her in.

The place was relatively quiet, with music on low, and what looked like folks studying. You were kinda glad it wasn't some big event or anything, as then more people would be looking your way. Instead, you only had the attention of one, and she was still holding your hand.  

Dropping it, you couldn't help but squeeze your hands together, realising that aside from Rachel, she was the only other person to have done that in years. Glancing up to see if Santana was still looking at you, you expected an onslaught of questions, or at least viciousness, but instead, she was looking unfazed, although a little guilty, if you were reading that emption right.  

"So I fucked up," she said, chewing her words as she did so, not looking comfortable at all saying them aloud. "Last week, I fucked up, and...I'm sorry.” You would have been amused if you weren't taken a little aback by this move on her part. "You should come back to the radio station, Mike's got a job you can do, and I know they'd be glad to have you."  

"Okay." You said, simply, not wanting to tell her which part you were accepting; her apology, or the job.  

"Alright, well, great." Giving you an awkward wave, Santana made a break for the mixing deck, and plugged her headphones in, shutting the world out. You couldn't help but think that that interaction was the strangest thing to have happened to you to date at Yale, and if it hadn't been for the tingling in your hand at her ouch, you would have thought you'd made it up.  

Pulling out your books, you settled down in the nearest couch and waited Mike coming over. It seemed as if she wasn't going to ask questions, and that thought had you thinking maybe it was safe to hang around again. And if that was the case, you could certainly take that job at the radio station.  

*0*0*

When you made your way back to the radio station, it was different. Or, rather, the building was the same but the experience was different. You weren’t confused, getting lost, and looking around for some clues. You were walking with Mike, who was filling you in on the basics. This time, he opened the door, led you down the hall, and rather than go into the room at the end of the hall, he took you left, to another room.

Inside was a young guy, perched over a bench, rooting around through his bag. He caught sight of Mike and yourself and shot you both a grin, and Mike turned to introduce you.

“Quinn, this is Adam. Adam, this is Quinn, the one I’ve been telling you about.”

“Hi,” you said, trying not to sound shy or reserved.

“Nice to meet you,” he replied, grabbing his bag and nodding for the door, slipping past and indicating you two should follow. “I hear you’re going to be my go to girl for whatever I need now.”

“So I’m told,” you replied, nodding.

Adam led you both back down the hall and into the main music library. He continued past the shelves of vinyls that you almost passed out at, and onwards towards the booth in the corner of the room.

“Great. I shouldn’t need much, but you can help out in here,” he explained, waving his hand to the shelves and music that needed to be put back, “and if I need you, I’ll get you in between songs.”

“No problem.” It sounded easy enough.

“Right, well I’ve got to get to it. See you later.” Adam gave you a nod and then headed into the booth, striking up conversation with the current student who was airing.

“Adam’s an easy going guy. I don’t know if you listen to him, but he covers the college music scene. Mostly independent groups or artists,” Mike began, starting to walk round the room, showing you where things were.

“And the things he’ll be after? What are they likely to be?” You hadn’t done anything like this, and you were pretty sure they had just made up a position for you to volunteer to do so you could hang out.

“Water, mostly. Or just someone to cover while he goes for a smoke. It’s nothing difficult. You’ll spend most of your time in here,” Mike explained, and then led you to see the room fully.

There was a mix of CDs and vinyls, even some cassette tapes stacked on the backwall. You had never really given it a thought, how it all worked. You just assumed it would be digitally done, a playlist that was set up in advance. You really had no idea if there was anything else to it.

But it looked like you were going to learn.

“It’s not all digital?”

“Some prefer to use the proper decks. It is what it is, and the equipment just lies there not being used the rest of the time, so no one sees the harm in it. Adam’s stuff is usually done in advance. He won’t have you running around here like a headless chicken looking for this one track that someone has put back in the wrong place, unlike some that rule the airwaves.” Mike shook his head with a smile, and you knew you’d have to ask about that another time.

“Anyway, let me show you how the system works. I have about twenty minutes before I need to head to class.” You shot him a thankful smile, and then he proceeded to explain the order of the cds, vinyls and cassettes. He showed you the bins that had music that needed to go back, and he showed you some of the older equipment that you were allowed to play around with if you wanted to.

Now you understood why B02 existed. With so much music, so much selection, it would be very easy to spend every waking minute, aside from those in class, at the radio station. To keep everyone out of trouble, and not creating a mess, B02 needed to be such a place.

Mike set you up with the filing of vinyls, saying it was easier than the cassette tapes, and there was no point touching the cds as there were only a few. Apparently, there was a constant stream of vinyls needing to be returned to their place after the nightshift.

So you grabbed a pile, said goodbye to Mike, and went about putting them away.

That was keeping you busy, and with Adam’s set playing over the speakers, you were also learning about just who he was. You really only listened to Rosario Cruz’s set, and that was it. Occasionally you’d catch another’s during the day, but that was only due to it playing in public places. Now you were going to have to branch out, listen to others, and hell, it probably was going to be pretty easy, especially if you were surrounded by it all.

The sound of footsteps had you looking around. You knew you weren’t alone, there were bound to be other people present, but you briefly wondered if it was Adam and if he needed something.

“I hear you’re going to be Adam’s bitch,” Santana said, finally making her presence known, leaning at the end of the vinyl rack you were working on. You helpful look was squashed to a simple eye roll.

Before last week, you would have been offended by her words, but now you took it as a sign things were back on track. Almost. Because she still looked a little unsure when she said it, and that had you rolling your eyes harder. As if you were suddenly going to become offended by such a little word.

Sighing, you thought it best to give her the silent treatment, and continued on with what you were doing.

“Ignoring me won’t work. I’m persistent,” she sang.

“Like syphillis,” you murmured, turning and moving to another shelf, and hearing her laugh behind you. She moved with you, and just kept staring, which what? Blowing out a deep breath, slowly, you turned to look at her, and she cocked her eyebrow in question.

“What do you want? Yes, I’m Adam’s bitch, as you so eloquently put it. Whose bitch are you?” She smiled wickedly and shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m my own bitch.”

“Right.” Later, you’d ask Mike who Santana helped out for.

"Fine, don't believe me, whatever. Don't come crying to me when you need help getting Adam's shit together." The way she said it implied there was more to this job than just fetching water.

"What shit? Mike said that Adam is pretty easy going... " And you can’t think that Mike would have lied to you.

"He is, but he sometimes gets 'inspiration' to go meet certain bands, to talk to them on air,” Santana mocked, curling her lip in distaste at the mere thought, “and in that situation, you'll be like a waitress. Or, you'll be covering the booth. So, listen to his sets, get to know his style, make sure the kitchen is well stocked with snacks and drinks, and it'll help you in the long run. "

"Thanks," you replied, honestly, appreciating the help. Santana shrugged like it was nothing, and didn’t make eye contact.

"Anyway, enjoy the clean up,” she said, nodding to the pile of vinyls you had lying next to you, that needed to be put away.

“Aren’t you going to help?” you asked, waving one at her. Santana looked at it, looked at you, and then took a step forward, slowly reaching out for it. You’d think from the way she was acting that you’d tried to hand her a bomb.

Smiling to yourself, that you managed to get her to actually pull her weight, since you were pretty sure she probably didn’t do that, you then noticed that she was still holding the record in her hand.

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“You’re being nice to me,” she said, and you frowned deeper.

“No. I’m insisting you help, because you work here too.”

“No, you’re totally being nice to me.” She grinned, and it was wicked, and your stomach flipped. “We can play this game,” she said, and you wondered what game she was referring to. “You like the hot and cold treatment, and I can do that.”

“Hot and cold treatment?”

“Yeah, you know; I call you a bitch, it gets you hot and bothered, we play nice so you can pretend no such thing happened-”

“And that is completely wrong! Good lord,” you groaned, shaking your head. “Get away from me.” Santana just laughed, and you hated how you enjoyed hearing it.

“So no hot and cold?” she enquired, looking hopeful, licking her lips, and goodness.

“No. Now leave me alone, pervert.” She laughed harder, and you took that as your cue to grab the vinyls and head off in the other direction from her.

Once safely in the other aisle, you let out a deep breath, and tried to pretend there was no heat in your cheeks.

Well, you knew you were attracted to her, you knew that the minute you’d seen her, but this...this reaction was new.

Shaking your head, you pushed it from your mind, and worked hard to ignore the flutter in your stomach. It would be like playing with fire, and you had already been burned too many times.

*0*0*

Later that night, lying in bed, you plugged your headphones in and waited for Rosario’s set to begin. You intended to study for an upcoming assignment while listening, and seeing as your roommate was out at some pledging thing, you didn’t need to worry about having the light on.

The music was good enough to  not distract you too much, and also keep you smiling, but the biggest smile on your lips didn’t happen until the last song, where you were able to learn a little more about the one Rosario Cruz.

“So, some of you smartasses have been plundering the Facebook page, wanting more details about the girl I call the ghost of Grace Kelly. Well, it’s safe to say, she’s way out of your league. And mine, too. But there’s nothing quite like using a song to say exactly what you’re thinking.” You knew you were going to have to check out the facebook page to find out just what stick she had been receiving.

Rosario began to play the intro on repeat of the last song of the night, before speaking again.

“Anyway, tonight, I’m ending things with Deacon Blue’s classic ‘Real Gone Kid’. It was written by, Ricky Ross, the lead singer, about his girlfriend when he saw her on stage performing. She was apparently in her element, and a sight to behold, truly mesmerising. Kinda like someone I know, Grace Kelly.” Rosario chuckled to herself, a chuckle that sounded oddly familiar, before she cleared her throat. “Alright, that’s enough, before you all break the facebook page. With that, it’s goodnight from me, and good morning to you. Enjoy.”

Chewing your bottom lip, books abandoned, you couldn’t help but feel like you knew that chuckle, somewhere. Tomorrow, tomorrow you'd investigate further, but for tonight, you were going to enjoy the awesome song, like Rosario had suggested.

 

_And I'd tear out the pages_

_That I've got in these books_

_Just to find you some words_

_Just to get some reward_

_And I'll show you all the photographs_

_That I ever got took_

_And I'll play you old 45's_

_That now mean nothing to me_

_And you're a real gone kid_

_And maybe now baby_

_Maybe now baby_

_Maybe now baby_

_Maybe now baby_

_Maybe now baby_

_Maybe now baby_

_I'll do what I should have did_

*0*0*


	8. Call Me

*0*0*

The late nights were taking their toll. You really needed a better way to handle the insomnia, and while listening to Rosario at night was good way to pass the time, it didn’t help you sleep. Maybe if you were making up for the hours lost elsewhere, it wouldn’t matter, but you weren’t. You were running on four or three hours of sleep a day, and it was slowly becoming obvious.

Or so you were told.

“You look like shit,” Santana said, coming to stand next to you. You were looking through cds, trying to find one Adam was asking for, although he couldn’t recall the name of it, or the band, just that it was blue and a cactus was on the front. So helpful.

“Thanks, way to make a girl feel special,” you grumbled in reply, knocking her arm slightly as you moved onto the next rack of cds.

“You want to feel special? Cause I have some sure fire ways of making that happen,” Santana teased, and you shot her a look, which was the worst mistake ever, because she was giving you a look of sin, eyebrow cocked, biting her bottom lip, before peeking her tongue out to wetten them.

“Fuck off,” you barked, turning away abruptly, not wanting her to see the blush on your cheeks, or the way you couldn’t help but lick your own lips.

Immediately, Santana was laughing, and then her hands were on your waist, gentle, coaxing you back into her body so that she was right behind you. Front pressed to back.

“If you ever change your mind…” she chuckled, and you could hardly function with her hands on you, pressed against you, let alone hear what she was saying. “Anyway, I’ve got my own music to find. Enjoy.” Santana let go of you, moved away, and gave you a nod goodbye, that infamous smirk on lips, as she went.

You let out the breath you’d been holding, suddenly feeling lightheaded, and shook your head. She was a nightmare. She could play your body like a master pianist at the piano, and you were a complete idiot for falling under her charms. She probably did that to all the girls she liked to wind up. She probably had  long list of girls she frequently flirted with that meant nothing to her.

And you were just another one on that long list. Fantastic.

Needing to put Santana out of your mind, you went back to the task at hand, and silently cursed Adam for this impossible task. You were either going to find the CD, and have him not want it anymore, or not find it, and have him be annoyed. So it really felt like a lose lose situation, and quite frankly, you’d had enough of them to last a lifetime, thank you very much.

But you kept looking, bin after bin, shelf after shelf, you kept going. It had to be there somewhere. It had to exist. You just hoped it wasn’t going to be in the last rack available to search, or you’d probably cry, because this was taking hours, and whoever was putting the CDs away was crap at it. You’d found more than needed to be reorganised in one shelf than what had been correct.

And then, it was blue, there was a cactus, and it was like the holy grail of CDs.

“I found it,” you said, holding it, trying not to look too pleased with yourself, when Adam came out the booth a few moments after your discovery. And rightly so, you shouldn’t have been pleased, because Adam wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy looking down at his phone, his thumbs frantically typing away.

“Great, take a note of it. I might need it at some point,” he murmured, and you wondered if he had really heard what you said, because earlier he had been so set on finding it, desperate to have it, and now he didn't care.

The buzzing of his phone in his hand as he was typing caused him to stop, and then he grinned, nodding to himself.

“I need you to cover the booth, I’ve got to do something. I’ll be back soon. Don’t screw up!” Adam called, moving past you quickly, leaving you standing there like a deer in headlights, as he went straight for the door.

What was going on? Where was he going?

You hadn’t even had a moment to process what had happened, where he went, that he had left you in charge, before panic smacked into you like a freight truck.

He had ditched you. He had just walked right out. What? One moment he was there, you had found the CD!, and then he was gone.

What the fuck were you going to do?

You assumed he’d left a song running, but you had no idea, and you’d have to check. But that meant going in the booth, and you’d never been in there. You’d looked in, occasionally passed Adam water when he needed it, but you didn’t have a clue what went on! What if the music ran out? What if you hit the wrong button?

You knew the number one rule was never to have silence, you couldn’t let it go blank, let there be nothing, or that would be a major screw up. So you needed to do something, but you didn’t know what.

“Is anyone here?” you called, hearing the panic in your voice. Your voice carried around the room, and you were just waiting for someone, anyone to answer your plea.

God, you hoped someone was there.

Then, you heard their footsteps before you saw them, and let out a sigh of relief that you weren’t alone. Maybe it was Adam coming back. Maybe you were saved.

Or maybe not.

“What’s going on?” Santana asked, vinyls in hand, looking confused. Then she looked past you, to the empty booth and moved forward quickly.

“Where’s Adam?” Santana growled, and gone was the easy bantering mood from earlier, but replaced with a stern frown as she pushed past you, heading into the booth. You followed, and shook your head, answering her question.

“I don’t...he took off.” Your brain had understood that much.

“And he left you in charge?” You nodded, tucking hair behind your ear as you did so. “Do you know how any of this works?” she waved her hand at the equipment before you, and you shrugged. She looked at you for a split second before shaking her head.

“Sit your ass down and I’ll run you through how this works,” she said, flicking dials and checking stuff on the screen, taking Adam’s seat.

“Thanks for this,” you replied, knowing that without her, you were, for lack of a better word, fucked.

“Whatever. He shouldn’t have ditched you like that.” You thought so, too. A few more clicks, a few more seconds, and then she was turning back to you. “You won’t need to speak on air, unless he doesn’t hurry up. But I think you can play two more songs before then. After that, you’ll tell them who the bands were, what the song was, and move to adverts.”

You really wanted Adam back.

“What if I mess up?” That was your biggest worry, and you could see Santana’s gaze soften as she looked at you.

“Are you going to curse?” she asked, and you frowned, wondering what that had to do with anything.

“What? No.” Of course you weren’t.

“Then you’re not going to mess up. Now, hit this button, and then push that,” she explained, and you nodded, waiting for her to give you the signal. She did, and you did as you were told, and in the speakers she had crookedly placed on your head, you heard the change, the old song end, and then the new one begin.

“Okay?” she asked, and you nodded, now moving to take the headphone off your head for now. You didn’t need them. That song was five minutes long. You had time.

“What next?” you asked, and Santana shot you a smile, before going into how everything worked, and what was required. Some of it was complicated, some of it was easy, but she was there, supporting you, and when you finally had to actually speak on air, she was right beside you, nodding in support.

“You did great. You didn’t sound nervous or anything, so relax. You’re good.” All you had done was tell them who the band was, the song, and what was coming up. Santana had pressed the buttons for the jingles and the commercials, which were playing, and you were trying to calm your racing heart, and steady your breathing.

“It’s quite a rush, isn’t it?” she asked, and you nodded in return.

“I take it, it’s not always like this.”

“Nah, sadly not. But it’s still fun.” You could see why, minus the mini heart attack you were having.

Gradually, the stress of the situation eased away, and you kept going, with Santana encouraging you, telling you certain ways to help ensure you didn’t get tongue tied over your words, and then Adam was back outside the booth.

“Wait here, just keep doing what you’re doing,” Santana said, getting up before you even had a chance.

You thought it would just be a simple switch. After all, you’d see how the changeovers worked after a DJs set. So this was new.

Watching, you observed Santana indicate Adam should follow him, and the two of them moved further away from the booth. Not that it mattered, because you weren’t going to be able to hear them anyway. It was soundproof for a reason.

Their postures suggested it wasn’t a friendly heart to heart they were having, and then Adam was waving his hand dismissively, which Santana looked ready to kill him for. And okay, now you wanted to know what the hell was going on.

However, it was time to change the song. So, getting back to the task at hand, you stopped peeking out the glass windows, and went back to it.

Once the new song began to play, Santana was coming back in the room, looking as if nothing had happened whatsoever. You wanted to ask, but then thought it probably was best not to. She’d explain.

Or not, as she took a seat next to you again, like Adam hadn’t come back at all, and now you had to ask.

“Where’s Adam? Is he not going to finish his set?”

“No. You are,” Santana said, not looking at you as she spoke. “It’s yours right now. He forfeited it the second he walked out the booth. You’ve got forty minutes, and while you have to stick to his set playlist, you’re still in charge.” Well, that was unexpected.

“I don’t know what I’m-” you stuttered, feeling very insecure with your ability to do this successfully.

“I’ll be with you the whole time. Just do as you please, and I’ll help out where I can.” You bit your bottom lip, and Santana rolled her eyes. “Q, half the gophers in this place would give their right leg to be in your place right now. Enjoy it. You’re doing great.” You wished you had her confidence in you. But...it was kinda fun so...

“Okay. Okay.” Santana’s grin was worth the fear, you figured.

“Now, swap seats, you’re the host, sit in the damn chair.” She pointed to the nicer chair of the two, and you hesitated, but then her hand was in yours, and she was moving you herself. There really was nothing special about the chair, but it was more the significance of it.

“Alright, now, get ready for the next song.”

Smiling, you did what she had taught you, and together, the two of you worked through the rest of the set. You signed off, explaining Adam would be back tomorrow, and was relieved when you saw the next DJ outside the booth, just waiting to take over.

When it was over, and you were back in the music library, feeling your whole body relax, you broke out into a crazy grin. God, that was exhilarating. you needed to tell Rachel. She’s be so proud.

Getting your phone, you fired off a text, and then looked up to see that Santana was watching you. She had a similar smile on her face, and this time, you were blaming the heat in your cheeks on the fact you just had done a lunchtime set on the college radio, despite being a complete rookie.

“Give me your phone,” Santana suddenly said, and you frowned, but she was taking it out your hands, and you were left looking at her like she was nuts. “There. Now you have my number, and I’ve now got yours. If Adam pulls this crap again, or you need help, whatever, just call me and I’ll walk you through it. Or just call me whenever. If you want. To talk or whatever,” she said, handing your phone back.

“Thanks,” you replied, unsure what had just happened, and blinking a few times to make sure you were seeing it right, because Santana’s cheeks were slightly red, and there was no way.

“Anyway, great set. See ya.” Her words were quick, and you barely caught them, before she was out the door.

Okay.

Shaking your head, you laughed to yourself, because this day was ridiculous, and yet, it was great. What a nice change.

Now, now you needed to go to class, because that was why you were at Yale in the first place. The radio station could wait. Only, you knew you’d be right back there tomorrow, because you couldn’t get the grin off your face.

It was completely surreal.

*0*0*

Despite knowing that you really needed to try and sleep at night, especially when you were tired, because the insomnia usually never granted you such a luxury, you still found yourself listening to Rosario’s set all the way through that night. You were too amped up from the day you’d had, which was surely understandable.

Plus, it was four hours. It wasn’t going to kill you, and you could sleep after it. Your first class wasn’t until 11. You had time, until the clock ran down, and it was just shy of six a.m. and it was going to be another goodbye to your favourite radio host.

“Alright, tonight, we’re ending the set with one of my favourites,” Rosario began. “Well, they’re all my favourites, but this is Blondie, so it’s different. Plus, this song totally works with what I’m thinking about right now. I mean, hello, I gave you my number for a reason; call me.” With an exasperated sigh, the intro to the song began to play in the background, and then Rosario was back. “It’s goodnight from me, good morning to you. Here’s Blondie with Call Me. Enjoy.”

_Color me your color, baby_

_Color me your car_

_Color me your color, darling_

_I know who you are_

_Come up off your color chart_

_I know where you're comin' from_

_Call me (call me) on the line_

_Call me, call me any, anytime_

_Call me (call me) my love_

_You can call me any day or night_

_Call me_

While the song was great, because it was, you were stuck on what Rosario had said. Sneaking a glance at your phone, you frowned, and then shook your head.

It couldn’t...it couldn’t be, right?

You were insane. Of course it wasn’t. It wouldn’t be. It couldn’t be. Rosario Cruz was not Santana. No way. The voice...the voice kinda sounded the same, now that you thought about it. But Rosario...Rosario was your salvation, while Santana was a thorn in your side...until now. Until that damn smirk, that damn chuckle (the chuckle!), and...and you were a complete idiot.

Grabbing your phone, you knew there was only one way to find out.

_Desperate much?_ \- You texted, listening as the song continued to play on.

If it wasn’t her, which it wasn’t, although it probably was, you’d pretend you’d sent that text to the wrong person. You could cover it up. You could easily lie. You’d done that for years. But if it was her…And then your phone buzzed, startling you. Opening the message, you found yourself breaking out into a huge grin. Christ.

_About time! And I fucking knew you listened to my set! Stalk much?_ Santana replied, and god, it was really her. How could you have...how?

_Please, you’re the one who begged me to call you on air,_ you replied, typing back quickly.

_It worked, didn’t it?_

_What did you want?_ There had to be a reason for her giving you her number, for her wanting you to call her, now you just needed to know what it was.

_Figure if I want to make out with you at some point, I kinda need to start being nice. So yeah. This is me being nice. Enjoy it while it lasts._

That text shouldn’t have affected you the way it did. You felt your whole body react. And god, the thought. Jesus. She was going to kill you.

_Awfully presumptions of you._

_Please, I’m dedicating songs to you, that should at least get me first base._

_You’ll need to up your game if you think that’ll do it. One mediocre song, not enough._ It felt like blasphemy saying that, because please, Blondie was an icon, but you knew it would get you the desired effect. And it did.

_Mediocre?! It’s Blondie!_ This was quickly followed up by another text. _Just you wait, I’ll show you what Blondie can do. Mediocre my ass._ There was no point arguing with her, she was riled up, exactly what you wanted, so now, you were going to sit back and enjoy where this was going to take you.

_Goodnight, Rosario._

So...that might have just been the weirdest thing ever. Santana was Rosario. The girl who had kept you above water was also the one who had pulled you under. What that meant...you had no idea, but you were going to be in for one hell of a ride, that you knew for sure.

Whether you survived it, that was another matter.

But for now, Blondie.

*0*0*


	9. Best Of My Love

_*0*0*_

You assumed that knowing Santana was Rosario Cruz would take some of the magic out of Rosario's set, but it didn't. You were still able to listen to her set on repeat the following day without immediately thinking of Santana. It wasn’t until she would laugh or say something a particular way, that Santana would pop into your mind, and then you’d be the one smiling.

Okay, you were a little bewildered how Santana could be the same person as Rosario, when you really gave it some thought. Rosario was so laidback on air, so focused and easy going, and Santana was, well....Santana. She was cocky, and smug, and flirtatious and everything you were warned about by your parents when it came to making friends. She was too confident, too dangerous to their establishment, and okay, that might have made her more appealing to you, you didn't know, but whatever.

Rosario and Santana seemed so different from one another, and while you understood most people did have alter egos on the radio, so they could separate their normal life from their radio life, you just couldn't imagine Santana sitting behind the desk in the booth from 2a.m. to 6a.m. playing music that sung to your soul and pulled you up from the depths, where you were drowning.  

Of course, you were never going to tell her about that, never going to let on that before her radio set you were looking at the pain meds tucked away in your closet with more than a curious eye, and counting the pills like it was the most important equation of your life. Which, it would have been, if it hadn't been for her set. You weren't going to tell her, ever. Yet, somehow she knew you listened to her set, she said she knew which, how?  

You couldn’t think of how you would have given yourself away, and you'd need to ask her later on, but first, you needed to see her in action. The image you had of Rosario was not the one you had of Santana, and it was time to meld those two together. If she would let you, that is.  

_What are you up to tonight?_ you sent her, knowing you were probably going to get some smartass response back, but whatever. You were tucked up in your dorm, having enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep, before you had to get your ass to your next class.  

_Nothing until 2_ \- Santana replied, almost instantaneously, and thank god she wasn’t one of those people that made you wait for their replies, despite knowing that they had seen the message.

_Can I watch..._

_Can I..._

You didn't know what to type, each message quickly deleted because asking felt weird, but you really needed it. It would help close the idea of Rosario, and of Santana, and just leave Santana.  

You couldn’t have any confusion.

While Rosario was a part of Santana, you needed to remember that it was Santana that made your stomach flutter, your heart flip, and your cheeks heat up on occasion. It wasn’t Rosario. Rosario was nothing but a stranger, one you would most likely be introduced to through snippets of Santana, if you were ever so lucky to see her mind in action when it came to music, but until then, you needed to remember it was Santana, not Rosario, that you had your attention.

_Would you have an issue if I hung out at the radio station tonight?_ \- you finally settled on, hitting send before you could change your mind. It didn’t take long before your phone buzzed in your hand, and you shouldn’t have been surprised with the response.

_You're free to hang out where and whenever you like._  Typical Santana. Ugh.

_During your set?_  It was best to clarify in case she had some strange rule about no one watching her while she worked. Mike mentioned there used to be one guy who couldn’t have anyone use the bathroom during his set as it through his set off, which apparently was rubbish, but he was popular enough no one used the bathroom. So, for all you knew, Santana could be just as big a weirdo as him. And really, if she was, you wouldn’t be surprised.

_You want to watch me work?_  Her response might not have indicated a smirk, but you were pretty sure you could feel her smirking, wherever she was across campus.

_Maybe_ \- It was non committal, it would do.

_Liar. Of course you do. Want to see the master in action, huh?_  And there was the aforementioned cocky attitude; because you really doubted she was kidding when she called herself the master, and with an eyeroll and a smile, you sent her a reply.  

_Yeah - are they going to be there tonight, or is it just going to be you?_ Her reply was only seconds later, and you grinned in success.

_Bitch._

Tossing your phone onto your bed, you rolled out of it and went about getting your stuff ready. There was no point instantly replying. You wanted her to think she had hurt your feelings, to feel some semblance of guilt, so that you could come tonight, and the best way to do that was to make her wait.

The frequent buzzing your phone was making only made you smile brighter as you put some music on and began throwing on some clothes.

Only once you were ready to walk out the room did you look at your phone again.

_You’re not asking to watch me tonight in some creepy stalker way, are you?_

_I can put up with some weird kinks, but nothing like that._

_I was kidding, you know that right?_

_Q?_

_Are you pissed I called you a bitch? Last week you told me to fuck off, we’re even._

_Quinn?_

_Ugh. Okay. Whatever. Be childish._ There was a few minutes pause before Santana’s next message.

_Have The Emotions ‘Rejoice’ vinyl at the ready, and bring me a hot chocolate, and you can sit in and watch._

_Thanks! See you tonight!_ And with that, you ended up grinning all the way to your next class.

*0*0*

By late afternoon, you were done with classes, and tucked away in B02. It was one of the best places to study, and it was becoming a great place for you to get your assignments done.

The library, while great, was ridiculously busy as of late, and you didn't want to have to fight for a good desk, or over the textbooks you were going to reference. So instead, you buckled down at the coffee table and couches, and were settling in to listen to the others mix music in the background, and argue about the best music of the last year. It was somewhat calming, and you found it was easier to study to that than the incessant typing of strangers in the library.  

B02's only downfall was the that you were bound to get distracted if Mike, Sam or Tina walked in. Hell, you were starting to get to know most of the others in the room, too, and it was so easy to just strike up conversation and forget all about the assignment before you.

So of course you were going to get pulled away from it. Of course someone was going to walk in and strike up a conversation, and of course you were going to talk with them, because B02 was your main lifeline, and you could always do the assignment later.

Only, when Santana breezed into the room and decided to sit beside you, draping her arm over the back of the couch, with only centimetres between the two of you, did the assignment become the most important thing in the room.

Was it weird to be nervous around her? Was it? Because you were. You were nervous. Ridiculously nervous, and you didn’t want her seeing such weakness.

"What can I help you with?" you asked, given Santana hadn’t said anything yet. Side-eyeing her, you noted that she was a lot closer than she would have been last week, and it was almost as if she knew that her close proximity caused your body to freak out.

With the wicked smile on her lips as she looked at you, you’d believe that was true.

"Actually,I came to help you with something," she replied, grinning, and you frowned because if she interrupted you for something stupid...  

"If this is the beginning of a dirty joke, I swear, Santana, I'll beat you with this textbook." Her laugh made you look at her fully, and she held her hands up in mock surrender.  

"It wasn't a dirty joke, but I like where your mind is at, Q. Tell me more about that, later tonight." God, look what you had started.

"Santana," you growled, and she rolled her eyes at you, as if you were being ridiculous.

"I'm helping,” she then said, as if that summed everything up. It really didn’t, because she wasn’t helping you at all at the moment. In fact, she was the best distraction ever, and you weren’t studying at all.

"You said something like that already.”

"Yeah, so let me explain." You raised your eyebrows and she accepted that as the green light to proceed. "Tonight, you should come by the radio station, around ten o'clock, instead of for two a.m. I'll be there, so come find me when you get in.” She smiled like that was the best thing ever, and you couldn’t help but frown a little more.   

"Why?" Obviously, there was a motive behind this, but you couldn’t see what it was.

"It's a surprise. But it'll help you. I’m helping.” Uh huh, you got that already.

"You keep saying that."  

"Because it's true." That was yet to be seen.

"This isn't because I said Blondie was mediocre, right?" You figured those words were going to bite you in the ass eventually, and you knew she had personally taken offense to such a thing.

"No," she waved her hand dismissively. "Pft, as if. Please, Q, I have something much bigger planned for that." That was disconcerting.

"Like what?" It wasn’t like she was going to tell you, but you could still ask.

"That's for me to know, and you to wait and find out. It'll be good though. So good.” She was grinning again, but it was the wicked grin, the one that made you feel alive but also crazy nervous, and you just didn’t know what to do with that information.

"I'm a little worried,” you confessed, and she smiled again, and yeah, apparently you needed to worry. Great.

"Anyway,” Santana began, moving on. “Tonight, radio station, ten o'clock." She reached out and gave your hand a squeeze before getting up. "Oh, and don’t forget my vinyl and hot chocolate. I’ll accept them at ten, instead of making you run out to get me the hot chocolate at two.” Yes, because that was so much easier. How generous of her. “See you there."

"Yeah, see you,” you mumbled, before looking at your hand. You could still feel her touch on you, and you really needed to get a grip of yourself sometime soon.

Preferably before you saw her that night.

Like that would happen.

*0*0*

Stepping into the radio station that night, you were greeted with a pleasant sight of Santana. It was almost like she was waiting on you, which would certainly be sweet of her, but then again, she was most likely just after what you had in your hand.

“Q, you made it,” Santana grinned, looking far too pleased with herself. Glancing round the room, just to see if there was anything suspicious, you came up empty. Maybe she really was pleased to see you.

“I did, and here’s the hot chocolate you wanted, and I’ll go get the vinyl.”

“Thank you,” she said, genuinely, shooting you a thankful smile, before it changed back into her usual grin. “Come find me when you find it, and I’ll explain why you’re here four hours early.” With those marching orders, you dumped your bag on the couch and went in search.

Thankfully it wasn’t a recently used vinyl, and therefore lodged in the crates and bins ready to be sorted out and re-stacked, but in its allocated space on the shelf. If all searches were that easy, you’d be laughing, but alas.

With it in hand, you headed towards the direction Santana had wandered off to, and found her amongst the rows of music, squatted on the floor, notebook in her lap, hot chocolate in hand, and about thirty vinyls across the ground.

“This the one?” you asked, holding the vinyl up, pulling her attention to you.

“It looks like it,” she said, reaching out for it, before nodding for you to take a seat on the floor with her. You did so as she looked over the back of it, and you could tell from her smile that yes, you had found it.

“Thanks, and now that you’ve earned your keep, you can sit in with me tonight.” Shooting her a thankful smile, you were going to actually thank her, but she kept going. “Now, the reason you’re here so early is because I have convinced Dave, who hosts the set before me, to let you do the last hour of his set. He’s got to leave early anyway, and he needed someone, so you’re up.”

You couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing. Well, no, you had to have heard wrong. You couldn’t have heard correctly. Either that, or this was one big prank.

“What?” you asked, shocked, needing more of an explanation. “Santana-” She could probably hear the panic in your voice, and quickly raised her hand to pause you before you could fly off the deep end.

“Before you freak out on me, you have three hours to prepare, to put music together, and fit it around the ads. I’m going to help you, while also going over my set, too. But it’s fine. You aced it last time you were in the booth, just do it again.”

Santana spoke as if you this was nothing, as if she had full confidence in you, and you felt the tension in your shoulders drop, and it was a bit easier to breath now. She believed you could do it, so why couldn't you?

“You’ll help me?” you asked, needing to know you weren’t going to have to do this alone. That task might just scare you to hell and back, and then you’d be useless.

“Every step of the way,” Santana answered, and you smiled at her softly, like you could finally see through the storm. She looked at you with a similar gaze, before rolling her eyes. “Now, go speak to Dave when he’s got an ad break, and then come back and we’ll go over some song choices.” Nodding, you began to rise to your feet, before stopping yourself.

You had this overwhelming need to just be near her, to just kiss her, to let her know that you appreciated her efforts, in more than a friendly manner, but…

Santana’s eyes darkened once you were within millimeters of her lips, and you were completely mesmerised by everything that she was, from the look she was giving you to the feel of her breath across your skin.

Taking a slow, shaky breath, you moved your head, and gently kissed her cheek. It wasn’t enough, but it was all you could give at that moment.

“Thanks,” you murmured, uncertain of your voice with being so close to her.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, a beat later, looking at you, into your eyes, then down to your lips, then back into your eyes.

Not yet.

If you kissed her now, you wouldn’t stop.

Not yet.

Moving back, you wiped off the nonexistent dust on your clothes and then went towards the booth, leaving Santana amongst the music racks.

It was time to see Dave, and maybe by the time you made it to the booth, the heat would be out your cheeks. Or maybe not.

*0*0*

“You ready?” Santana asked, sitting in the chair beside you in the booth.

Dave had left moments ago, and you were about to take over for him. It was a big moment. This wasn’t like Adam’s set. This was your own hour. Your music. Your choice. Your ass on the line.

Okay, you didn’t think you’d screw it up, but still.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Great, just do what we practiced, say you’re taking over for Dave’s last hour, keep it short, and oh, introduce yourself.” You could do that. “Wait, what’s your name?” Santana asked, causing you to frown, and look at her quickly. How did she not know your name? Was it terrible you were exceedingly offended right now?

“What?” you asked, trying not to sound as hurt and pissed off as you felt.

“Are you going to be Quinn...whatever your last name is, I have no idea, what is your last name?” Santana needed to get to the point before you booted her out the booth. She was seriously psyching you out.

“Fabray,” you answered, wondering where this was all going.

“Right, are you going to be Quinn Fabray, or are you going to be someone different?” Someone different...someone different like she was with Rosario Cruz.

“You’re asking me this now, with less than fifteen seconds to go?” you panicked, looking at her with wide eyes and disbelief.

“I didn’t think about it, but you need a name, so what’s it going to be?” Santana shot back, still acting calm, as if this was nothing. Please. This was huge!

Did you really want to be Quinn Fabray? Granted, you could just go by Quinn, but even then, it wouldn’t take a genius to track you down. There weren’t many Quinns running around the place.

And if one of those folks were to google you…the crash...glee club...pregnancy photos...cheerio videos...celibacy club...it would read like a train wreck. Yeah, you couldn’t be Quinn.

You needed to be someone else.

You needed...you needed to be….

“Well?” Santana asked, with her fingers counting down until you were to speak.

You didn’t have time to think, you just had to go with your gut.  

“Evening everyone. I’m Lucy Q and I’ll be finishing up for Dave tonight. We’ll be keeping things short and sweet, so up next we have The Futureheads with Hounds of Love.” And with that, you hit the button, and the song began to play.

_When I was a child, running in the night, I was afraid of what might be_

_Hiding in the dark and hiding on the street, and of what was following me_

_The hounds of love are calling_

_I've always been a coward, and I don't know what's good for me_

_Well here I go, it's coming at me through the trees_

_Help me, someone, help me, please_

 

“Lucy Q, huh?” Santana asked, and you turned to her with a small smile on your lips.

“Yeah, Lucy Q.” That’s what your gut had said, and it felt rather good to accept Lucy back into your life.

“It’s cute.” Santana’s smile made you think there was more to her words, but you didn’t have time to focus on it.

Instead, you went back to organising what was ahead, and she was quick to help. Like she said, she remained at your side, ready to help, right up until the last two songs.

“I need to go get ready, I’ll be right back, but you’ve got this. You don’t need me.” You shot her another thankful smile, and kept things afloat.

It was a little scarier this time, knowing that you were Lucy Q, and not just some girl filling in, and that these were your song choices, but as it was, some of the music you wanted to play tied in with Dave’s sets, and it worked to your advantage.

Hell, the whole day had worked to your advantage, and you really couldn’t recall being this happy. And the night was only going to get better, you thought, as Santana came back into the booth, listening to you sign off, and hand over the reins to her.

“You ready to see how a pro does it?” she teased, and you rolled your eyes, vacating the chair, and moving to the other one so you could watch.

While you knew this was Rosario’s set, all you could see was Santana now, in the way everything was organised, to the way her presence filled the room. Rosario was laid back on air, so focused and easy going, but now that you saw Santana in this room, surrounded by what she loved, you could see it was actually a huge part of her. The cockiness, the smugness, it was a beautiful cover for something she cared so much about, and you felt very privileged to witness her in action.

She kicked off her set and then began teaching you how to set the vinyls up, in case you ever felt inclined to use them in the future. You didn’t know when you would next be back on the air, but Santana was convinced it would be sooner, rather than later.

Of course, as you’d not really worked with vinyls before, you were completely atrocious with dropping the needle on the track correctly, and she was getting her kill taking the piss out of you. If you weren’t having so much fun, you’d be offended.

But she did have to take over after you messed up a few songs in a row, and she even apologised to her listeners for the “rookie in the booth” with her. And then it was time for you to watch and learn, and admire, because watching Santana work was like art. She was so precise and everything she did was so calculated, each song, each bit of info she blabbed about before the song, and gone were the days of admiring Rosario.

“Alright, it’s time for me to go,” Santana began, glancing up the to the clock to check if she still had time, “but before I do, here is one classic song to end the set on. For those of you waking up, you’re welcome, and for those of you going to sleep, you’re also welcome for the great song to end a great night.” And she was right about that, because it really was a great night. “Here’s The Emotions with Best of My Love, and with that, it’s goodnight from me, and good morning to you. Enjoy!” Santana signed off, dropping the needle exactly where it needed to be for the strong intro hit your ears through the headphones, and you grinned despite yourself.

Santana wasn’t paying you an ounce of attention, as she cleaned up her set on screen, and gathered the vinyls on the desk, all while dancing to the song. You couldn’t blame her for it, as it was a very catchy song. 

_Doesn't take much to make me happy_

_and make me smile_

_Never never will I feel discouraged_

_Cause our love's no mystery_

_Demonstrating love and affection_

_That you give so openly yeah_

_I like the way ya make me about you baby_

_Want the whole wide world to see_

_Whoa whoa, you got the best of my love_

_Whoa whoa, you got the best of my love_

_Whoa whoa, you got the best of my love_

_Whoa whoa, you've got the best of my love_

“Ready to go?” she asked, taking off her headphones, ready to vacate the booth for the next DJ to come in, and you nodded, taking yours off too.

Once out of the booth, you could hear the song playing over the speakers, and Santana didn’t waste a second before racing over to put the volume up, and dancing her way up the aisles to dump the vinyls in the bin to be reorganised tomorrow.

She was mouthing the words as she moved, taking all three parts of the song, and her happiness was infectious. God, this girl. Biting your bottom lip, you smiled as she finally turned back to you, not looking embarrassed at all, but practically giddy.

“Want to go get some breakfast? My treat,” she asked, smiling at you, and yeah, there was just no way you could turn her down.

Rosario might have hooked you with her music, but Santana was the one reeling you in.

_ Goin' in and out of changes _

_The kind that come around each day_

_My life has a better meaning_

_Love has kissed me in a beautiful way_

_And oh yea (my love, my love)_

_oh yea (my love, my love)_

_Oh you got the best of my love_

_Whoa whoa, you've got the best of my love_

_Whoa whoa, you've got the best of my love_

_Whoa whoa, you've got the best of my love_

_Demonstrating sweet love and affection_

_That you give so openly yeah_

_The way I feel about ya baby can't explain it_

_Want the whole wide world to see_

_Ohhh but in my heart_

_You're all I need_

_You for me and me for you_

_ohhh, it's growin' every day ooooh_

_ohhh, oh oh oh oh oh_

_you've got the best of my love_

_ohhh, oh oh oh oh oh_

_you've got the best of my love_

_ohhh, givin' you the best of my love_

_my love ohh my love_

_ohhh, givin' you the best of my love_

_my love ohh oh yeah_

_ohhh, oh oh oh oh oh_

_you've got the best of my love_

*0*0*

 

 


	10. Atomic

 

*0*0*

In the wake of Lucy Q, you found yourself hanging out at the radio station even more than before. If you weren’t in class or B02, you were there, taking it all in, learning what you could, working for Adam, and patiently awaiting the reaction of your set that night.

The Facebook page, the one you had frequented when Santana had been talking about the mysterious Grace Kelly, was the best place to see how you did, as the students weren’t shy about voicing their opinions.

You were new, you were refreshing, you were a nice one off, you needed more practice, you were too quiet, you didn’t have enough personality, you played great songs, you played rubbish songs, you sounded dull, you sounded hot, you should be on the radio less, you should be on the radio more, etc. etc.

It was all there, in black and white, for everyone to see and look over, and while it probably didn’t mean much, you found yourself kinda fixed upon looking at the comments. You had had so much fun that night, picking songs, going over the choices, working in the booth, being on air, you were worried the listeners were going to hate you and that would be the end of that.

Santana was convinced otherwise.

“Please, don’t let it get to you, they know nothing,” she muttered, shaking her head as she slipped a vinyl back in place. For once, she was finally helping out, and you were trying not to let the fact that you asked her kindly get to your head. Maybe she did help out, even when you didn’t ask.

“But their opinions matter-” you argued back, not convinced with Santana’s words.

“To no one. They’re not the ones that make the decisions. Unless you seriously sucked ass, which you didn’t, then you’re fine.” Another vinyl back in place, and another added to the pile for the next rack over.

“But it was a one off, I might never get back on air-” you said, frowning, looking at the vinyl in your hand with wonder. What if you didn’t? What if that was you last shot? What if Lucy Q was just a one off? What if you never spoke on the airwaves again?

“You will,” she replied quickly, not even looking at you, or at what she was putting back. Maybe you needed to check her work later, to see if she really was helping.

“Santana,” you moaned, looking at her exasperatedly.

“What?” she asked, sounding aggrieved. “I know what I’m talking about.” And she did, because she’d been working in the radio station since her freshman year. She’d gruelled away for months on end, and only got lucky one night when her host had to leave middle of their set with food poisoning. She had her own sets ready to go, ready to play, with her own twists to it, and just like that, she was better than the previous host.

Santana had an understanding that you didn’t have, and she wasn’t plagued with the same insecurity and anxiety you were, which was telling you that no one liked it, no one liked Lucy Q, and that you should quit while you were ahead.

You really needed to learn to listen to her.

“Dave liked your set, Quinn. You’re fine.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Other than the obvious, but the way Santana said it, the way she looked at you as she spoke made you think there was more to that simple statement than initially thought.

“Dave’s a senior, do the math.” And with that, she grabbed the stack of vinyls that needed to be sorted elsewhere, and wandered away.

He was a senior, so he was graduating this year. Which meant...which meant next year his slot was up for grabs. But there was a long time between now and then. Unless, unless Santana knew more than she was letting on, and okay, you’d need to find that out.

You could add that question to the bunch of others that had slowly stacked themselves up, and maybe when you finally found the courage, you could start asking for answers.

Until then, you’d drum over what you would do if you were to get on air again, and never be unprepared. Adam abandoned you during his set once, he might do it again, in which case, you needed to be ready.

*0*0*

Lists of songs, printouts of past set schedules, rehearsing different ways to ‘gain a personality’, and every once in a while, you’d actually attend your classes. College was finally living up to the dream you had of it, with friends, with fun, laughter, and enjoyment; and Santana was an added bonus.  

Hell, the way she looked at you, the times you caught her staring, smiling, made you chew your lip in frustration with yourself for not having kissed her already, and that infuriating smirk of hers, all of it was so much more than you could ever have bargained for.  

You knew making the transition from celibacy queen, and teen mom, to out and proud gay college student was going to be hard. You never thought that your inability to act, to do anything to come out further, to make your college experience about your sexuality, to look for a partner would in fact find you a stunning girl who was wholly interested in you.

Or, at least she seemed to be. Santana wanted to make out with you, which was a start, and you could only assume she was after something other than sex, too, given that the two of you hung out more than ever before.  

She had stopped being a bitch, too, which you needed to ask about, because surely she wasn't as immature to do the whole 'if they're mean it means they like you' thing. If she did, then ugh, you needed to have a word with her about what was appropriate. Already you could see that conversation going down like a lead balloon.

But you digress, college was getting good. Life was getting good. And with each passing day, it was only getting better.

Little did you know how much better it was going to get.  

Always knowing how to make an entrance, Santana found you in the racks of CDs at the radio station, leaning back against the shelf, and taking your hand in hers. You hadn’t seen her all day, you hadn’t spoken to her, and then here she was, with her hand entwining her fingers with yours, and okay; you were listening.

“I’m doing this thing,” she began, refusing to give you eye contact. Instead, she was looking at the two of your hands together, and gosh, she had soft hands. “You should come to it. Bring Rachel.” That really wasn’t enough information for you to make an educated decision, but maybe that was the whole point of the handholding, of the caressing her thumb was doing to the back of your hand, to how soft she was being with you, and how soft she felt.

“What thing?” you asked, finally finding your voice, and giving up on the CDs, to lean next to her, and watch just how her thumb moved over the back of your hand exactly.

“Just a thing. Get your ass there. It’s this weekend. I’ve already invited Rachel, but like, pick her up from the station or whatever. You’ll get more details then.” Right. Okay. “By the way, your hair is beautiful.” This time she looked at you, and you felt yourself swallow the lump in your throat from her sudden attention.

Well, while that compliment was completely left field, it also had your heart thumping unbelievably in your chest. Good lord, get a hold of yourself.

“Eh...Thank you,” you replied, frowning deeper. “Santana, what are you up to? What’s this weekend?” Obviously there was more to this than you realised.

“Something mediocre,” she teased, her mood shifting, and that damn smirk appearing. It was there a second, like her, before she gave your hand a soft squeeze and left.

Something mediocre. Something mediocre, like Blondie, like you calling Blondie mediocre, and what in lord’s name was going to happen this weekend?  

Whatever it was, it had you slightly nervous. From Santana's smirk alone, you should have known she was up to something truly wicked, but her gorgeous face sometimes distracted you from that smirk. You needed to learn to be more resilient and observant around her. It might help in these situations in the future.  

The only clue she had given you as to where to look for more information was Rachel. She had mentioned Rachel so automatically that meant you needed to call her right away. You couldn’t wait, and you knew from Rachel’s schedule that she’d be home now anyway, so it wasn’t like you were bothering her. Yet.

"Quinn, what do I owe the pleasure?" Rachel asked, sounding her usual chipper self.

"You're coming up this weekend, right?" you asked, getting right to the point.

"I am indeed, and I see Santana has spoken to you, hence this phone call?

"Yeah, she has. And not that I'm not excited that you're coming up, but do you know what gosin on this weekend? Did she say what was happening? What we would be doing?" The questions just kept coming, and you needed to take a breath. You weren’t Rachel, you didn’t have superior breath control.

"She neglected to give me those details, I’m afraid. I believe it was, because she knew you'd ask." Of course she did. "What I can tell you is that we'll have an amazing time! She's promised a good time, and I am one to believe Santana does not make promises lightly. Anyway, do you want me to meet you at your dorm, or shall I see you at the station? And what is the weather like on campus for you? I need to know what clothes to suitably pack-"

Filling in Rachel on the details, the weather, the times of the trains, the arrangements for sleeping as your roommate might actually be there that night, you managed to get off the phone with nothing but a perplexed frown. What was Santana up to?  

You had a few days until the weekend, and no doubt by the time it rolled around, you'd be certifiably insane. Not that you weren’t already, mind you.

*0*0*

When Saturday did finally roll around, you awoke early to pick Rachel up from the station, and then the two of you went and had some breakfast. She filled you in on all the craziness of New York, what was happening with that creepy date that wouldn't leave her alone, and Kurt. It was refreshing to be around her again, and you were thankful that Santana had arranged this, whatever this was, because otherwise God only knows when you would have next seen Rachel.  

After her news, you filled her in on the radio show, Lucy  Q, which she gave you a soft smile to, and your classes. Then she asked about Santana, because Rachel was a shark when it came to news and gossip nowadays, and of course she smelt blood in the water.

"What's going on with the two of you?" Apparently Rachel still hadn’t learnt tact, either.

"What do you mean?" Acting coy was your best bet to buy yourself some time.

"She was very secretive on the phone. And she says that tonight is something special for you. Something magnificent."

"Something magnificent?" you repeated, not believe that those were Santana’s words.

“Yep. So, is this some sort of serenade thing she’s doing? Because Mike said we’re going to some hall to see a performance-”

“You spoke to Mike, when?” you asked, interrupting her. That didn’t earn you any points, but Rachel decided to humour you with an answer anyway.

“On the train. He sent me a text telling me that we are to meet him and Sam at some address, as they have the tickets.” Tickets?

“We’re going to a show?”

“I believe so,” Rachel began, “but Santana doesn’t have a ticket with us, which makes me think she’s performing. I’m getting the distinct impression that this is like when we all used to serenade our crushes in glee club.” Oh god, no.

“Rachel, with one hundred percent certainty, I can assure you that is not the case. Santana is not serenading me.” She wouldn’t. She’s not that crazy.

“She likes you, though, so I don’t see why not.” Wait...how did Rachel…?

“Why do you think she likes me?” Did Santana say something? And god, were you back to being an anxious fourteen year old after hearing about your first crush?

“Please, you’re all she talks about with me, and don’t worry, I’ve learnt from last time, not to give any information out about you, but still. While we do talk New York and fashion, amongst other things, you are the main topic.”

“How? What does she even…?” You weren’t quite sure how to finish that sentence, but Rachel knew what you were asking.

“She talks about you working at the radio station, and after your set the other night, she raved about you. So, again, how certain are you she’s not serenading you tonight?” Rachel teased, and okay, now, you had no idea.

God, she wouldn’t. Would she?

That night, you met up with Sam and Mike, and the four of you made your way to Crusaders Hall, a small venue tucked away behind a crappy bar and an abandoned lot. It wasn’t the most upmarket of places, but from the queues outside, you knew that whatever was going on tonight had a lot of folks interested; mostly students, from the looks of it.

“Mike, what is this?” you finally asked, having held that question in for the entire day, and only choosing to ask once inside the place, and standing at the bar, with some illegally obtained liquid courage in your system. You needed it.

“Santana’s friends with a few of the burlesque dancers, and they were having this thing tonight, so she asked it she could put her own song in. and they agreed to help,” he explained, shrugging like that was no big deal.

“Burlesque?! Oh how exciting!” Rachel began, sipping her own illegally obtain drink. “I’ve always wanted to take a class. After all, it’s sexy and sinful, but with a story and there’s so much teasing - Oh, Quinn, you’d be great at it!” You shot Rachel a foul look, and she laughed to herself behind her glass. Sam grinned at the joke, too, which earned him a glare, while Mike tried to ignore the comment entirely. Good man.

“She’s got her own song?” What did that mean exactly?

“Well, no. She’s not singing. Santana doesn’t sing on stage. She’s mouthing along to the words of the track, that’s about it. They all do it. It’s easier that way. Or so I’m told,” he finished, trying to make it clear he didn’t go to many of these things. But the snort from Sam told everyone otherwise.

“Right.” God, what were you about to be sitting through?

With the starter bell ringing, the bar and lobby began to move for the hall. Ensuring everyone had everything, Mike led the way to the seats. You followed, with Rachel behind you, and Sam at the rear, who was eager to strike up some kind of conversation with Rachel any way he could. Poor guy didn’t know that if he just gave Rachel a chance, she’d lead the conversation herself.

Once in your seat and settled, you heard your phone go off, and went to get it out your bag. There would probably be a reminder at some point before things began, but you were thankful for whoever it was texting you for the quick one beforehand, in case you forgot.

_You here?_ \- was all the text from Santana read, and you frowned at it bemusedly, before glancing up at the curtain on stage, and then back down to your phone.

_I am._ There was no point giving lengthy responses, especially when she probably didn’t care what seat you were in, just that you were there.

_Good. Enjoy the show._

You frowned at your phone again, before putting it on silent and tucking it back into your bag. You fully intended to enjoy the show, although you had no clue what to expect. The posters and flyers that Sam was passing you said burlesque acts with musical flare, whatever that meant.

Twenty minutes later, you learnt that ‘burlesque acts with musical flare’ summed up exactly what you were watching; stunning burlesque acts with well timed music playing, or being worked into the act.

And burlesque. Good lord. These women...well, if you ever had any doubts, you could safely say you were one hundred percent gay.

To reinforce you of that fact, an all too familiar artist’s song began to play, and across the stage strutted five women, with one you knew very well leading the charge.

Blondie’s Atomic blasted through the speakers as the performers onstage danced, using props of a cane and chair to help them. But in burlesque fashion, it was all about the teasing, and the little clothing they were wearing was now being slowly removed with each specific beat of the song.

Santana was wearing a similar outfit, with a similar cane in hand, and seated front and centre. She was moving her body the same way as they were, but lip synching the words.

_Uh huh make me tonight_

_Tonight, make it right_

_Uh huh make me tonight_

_Tonight_

_Tonight_

_Oh uh huh make it magnificent_

_Tonight_

_Right_

_Oh your hair is beautiful_

_Oh tonight_

_Atomic_

From the way Santana was moving her hips and running her hands up her body, over her breasts, you were hypnotised. You may have accidentally stopped breathing as she danced, moving amongst the other dancers, touching them, helping them build up the suspense of the act, before the marched back to stand in a V formation. The song must have been shortened, because you were sure there was a longer pause between lyrics, but you were not complaining, because every time Santana went to sing, she moved in such a way you would sell your soul to see again.

_Uh huh make me tonight_

_Tonight, tonight_

_Oh your hair is beautiful_

_Oh tonight_

_Atomic_

_Tonight make it magnificent_

_Tonight_

_Make me tonight_

_Your hair is beautiful_

_Oh tonight_

Everytime the lyric ‘your hair is beautiful’ came up, the cane would be on the stage, and her hands would travel up her body, with her head falling back, showing her neck and exposed cleavage, and she’d run her hands through her hair, bucking her body in a certain way, along with all the other dancers. It was so well timed, so well executed, and so hypnotising, you couldn’t function.

And then the song was building again, building for the climax, which was so perfectly seen in each of the dance moves, and wow. This might just be the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

_Atomic_

_Atomic_

_Oh_

_Atomic_

_Atomic_

_Oh_

The act ended with a loud applause, which you could completely understand, and you glanced to your side to see if anyone had spotted the heat in your cheeks. Sam and Mike weren’t looking at anyone but the stage, and if Rachel noticed, she wasn’t letting on, but instead giving enthusiastic claps in support.

With a deep breath, you replayed what just happened in your head, before frowning at the familiarity of some of it.

Something magnificent. Your hair is beautiful. It was all adding up. God, Santana had been giving you hints since she mentioned it to you! Laughing to yourself, you shook your head and bit your bottom lip. She was infuriating in that ‘I’m completely hung up on you’ way, and you couldn’t believe she managed to compliment your hair without giving the game away.

But she hadn’t given the game away, and now there you sat, completely in awe of her.

That feeling didn’t dissipate as the show finished and everyone made their way back to B02. Santana was coming with a few of the performers from the show later, which gave you time to hang out with Rachel until their arrival.

Of course, Santana kept her distance for a good hour or so after she did arrive. She was pulled to play the music, to put on some of her mixes, and you couldn’t blame her for eating it up, especially when she was trying out original mixes.

It was only later, much later, when Rachel was ready to go back to your dorm room, did she finally make her way out into the hall to see you.

Rachel was talking with Sam and some of the performers they had made friends with by the steps leading up to the exit. They saw the two of you standing close and it was an unspoken agreement to move away, to let the two of you talk, and for that you were thankful. Not that you couldn’t have spoken in front of them, but that they respected your privacy enough not to be around to hear whatever was to be said.

Smiling at you, Santana licked her lips and brushed her hair out of her face, not taking her eyes off you as she did so.

“So, is Blondie still mediocre?” she asked with a smirk, and you rolled your eyes. Even if she had been, you would never have won that argument, because she’d killed it with a sultry outfit and dance moves that should be illegal.

“She never was, but you’re so fun to rile up,” you replied, hoping that was enough to satisfy her. It earned you a laugh, and god, you enjoyed hearing that.

“So are you.” That had you narrowing your eyes for a second, before Santana expanded. “You looked a little flustered during my performance. Were you not enjoying it, Quinn? Was it not good for you? Did it not make you feel good?” she asked, sinfully.

“Fuck off,” you laughed, shaking your head and looking away from her. You were not going to justify those questions with any sort of answers. And that amused Santana greatly.

“Come on, that performance at leasts get me first base, right?” she teased once more, taking a light approach, and you laughed again.

Oh, she had no idea.

“That would get you a home run if my best friend wasn’t staying with me tonight.” Santana’s eyes darkened at your words, and she moved closer, making you step back. There needed to be an even distance between the two of you, and you couldn’t have her breaching it. She was too tempting.

“Ditch her,” she growled, her voice so much huskier than before, and god, you wanted to do just that.

“Not going to happen.” You couldn’t have sex, you couldn’t rush into it, your body was still a mess, and Santana’s….Santana’s was that of a goddess.

You weren’t ready yet, you wanted to, you really goddamn wanted to, but you were broken, you were injured and weak and a mess. You couldn’t last, you would need to be on painkillers or drunk so you didn’t feel the pain, so you didn’t end up crying, which was pathetic, when all you really wanted was just to have some good sex. You knew it existed.

It might not have happened with Puck, but so many spoke of sex being good, it had to. And Santana, god, she made you think that sex with her could be a religious experience. So no, you couldn’t, not yet.

You couldn’t risk having crappy sex with her, because that would ruin it all, and then you’d be left with nothing but physical agony that wasn’t worth the effort, and a tarnished friendship with her because you didn’t explain why it looked like Edward scissorhands had tickled you.

“Quinn,” Santana whined, at your words, at your silence, and you took pity on her for half a second before leaning in, and leaving a lingering kiss on her cheek. It was much like the last time, feeling her soft skin against your lips, taking in her scent, feeling her presence so close, and knowing that you were fighting a losing battle not to just lean down and kiss her lips instead.

“Hopefully that’ll tide you over for now,” you murmured, unable to say much at all, before making a move to walk away, towards the others at the end of the hallway.

You made it ten steps before Santana’s voice rang out

“Tide me over?! Oh my god! You’re killing me here!” she cried, laughing, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her. Laugh, but also sympathise, because you could feel the heat in your cheeks and down your body. You could feel the overwhelming need to go back and slam her against the wall, kiss her hard, and just let things go exactly where they were meant to. You could practically feel her touch on you, imagine it so perfectly, so no, you needed to get the hell out of there, and fast.

“You okay?” Rachel asked once you were back to her side.

“Yeah, great.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t quite the truth. However, you didn’t give it time to settle. You entwined your arm with Rachel’s and after saying bye to the others, you asked her what she thought of the night as the two of you headed back to your room. Her verbose response was just what you needed to take you from turning around and going back to Santana.

You needed to cool off, you needed to step away, you needed to remember the scars on your body, the pain in your hip, and your aching back, you needed to remember that there was so much more to this than just giving into lust.

And that did the trick.

*0*0*

Later that night, after a few hours of sleep, you found yourself tossing and turning, trying hard not to wake Rachel. You knew why you were awake, you were just trying hard to ignore it. But fuck it, it wasn’t six yet, so what was the point of resisting?

“What are you doing?” Rachel asked sleepily. She felt you reaching out of the bed, onto the floor, to gra your phone.

“I just want to hear one thing,” you replied, trying to lull her back to sleep by rubbing your hand over her back soothingly.

Popping in your headphones, you brought up the app for the radio station and soon had a song playing softly to listen to. Glancing at the time, you were relieved to see you hadn’t missed it. She still had one song left, and you were just wondering what it was going to be. It had to be about tonight. It just had to be. If it wasn’t, you were going to be severely disappointed in her.

But when had Santana ever let you down with her song choices?

“Last song of the night, and it’s got to be Blondie’s Atomic. It’s a personal favourite, and rather fitting for tonight. If any of you were over at The Crusaders Hall this evening, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Those of you who weren’t, you missed a hell of a show, and shame on you. Anyway, this is for Lucy Q, because she needs an education in the classics. And with that, it’s goodnight from me, and good morning to you. Enjoy!”

Hearing the song again, you were immediately hit with the flashbacks of Santana dancing, moving in such a manner your body broke out in goosebumps. How she was able to have an effect on you from a simple memory, you didn’t know, but god, she was certainly something else.

Maybe it was about time you let her know that, because that mention on air, the songs, the performance that evening, all of it said she was trying for your attention, when in reality, she just needed to know she had it, and she was the only one who had it.

What you didn’t want was for her to think you weren’t interested, because that was most definitely not the case. And maybe, maybe you could stop punishing yourself already and just kiss her.

Maybe that could be tomorrow's goal.

*0*0*


	11. She Drives Me Crazy

*0*0*

The rest of the weekend was a write off, and you didn’t see Santana at all on Sunday, or Monday for that matter. You spent Sunday with Rachel, before she got the late train home, and then Monday was catch up on assignments and attending classes. Santana was doing the same, no doubt, so it wasn’t a big deal.

You still listened to her set at night, or the next day on catch up, and her songs kept you happy throughout studying time and when you were cooped up in the library trying to find another five hundred words for this awful paper you were ready to be done with.

Only, you needed a lift. You needed inspiration to get you through it, and given you had a few of her sets saved, you wondered if the old Rosario Cruz memories would help push you through. So after loading them up, you settled in, and enjoyed the feeling of welcoming back an old friend in her voice and her songs.

Only, as the set wore on, something wasn’t sitting right with you, and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. It had nothing to do with the paper you were writing, but what you were listening to; like alarm bells ringing for an unknown problem that you needed to fix quickly before the ship went down. Except, you had no idea what it was.

And then Santana spoke.

_“Now time for a classic, which has over three hundred different recordings. The song is ‘Always On My Mind’ and I’m choosing the Pet Shop Boys version. Sorry Willie Nelson and Elvis, but this version I can dance to. And this song goes out specifically to the ghost of Grace Kelly, who I just don’t know what to do with, but safe to say, you’re always on my mind.” The intro of the song began playing in the background, but Santana wasn’t done. “And hey, the rest of you, I don’t want any comments on Facebook about being pathetic or abuse of power. If I can’t play a song for a hot girl, then I’m playing this gig wrong. Now, it’s goodnight from me, good morning to you, enjoy!”_

‘Specifically to the ghost of Grace Kelly, who I just don’t know what to do with, but safe to say, you’re always on my mind.’

‘If I can’t play a song for a hot girl, then I’m playing this gig wrong.’

God.

There was...she...You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to be rational. That wasn’t easy at the best of times, but you tried, before you completely lost your cool and did something ridiculously tragic.

Taking a deep breath, you knew were going to have to bring it up, because it was going to eat at your otherwise.

You had to know if there was another girl. If Santana had resorted to you because the one she wanted hadn’t wanted her. Were you a rebound?

God, this was a mess. Your thoughts were a mess.

But you needed to bring it up. You just had to.

Turning off the music, you went back to writing, and apparently shock and a twinge of hurt was a great studying aid, as you finished the paper in no time and then was able to head back to your dorm, where you bed was calling you.

*0*0*

Finding an appropriate time to bring up the ghost of Grace Kelly was hard.

In all honesty, there was no appropriate time. There was no suitable moment to enquire, and instead, you were going to have to have it come out left field and hope for the best.

The only opportune moment you found was during a session at the radio station. Santana wanted to work on her set list for that night’s show, and you wanted to finish revising. To get out the way, the two of you hustled down in the racks of music, well out the way of anyone working, and set up camp.

This was becoming a thing the two of you did, and you have to say, you kinda liked it. It felt private, just the two of you in your own bubble of music, both content to do your own thing, but do it together.

You really did want to do anything to jeopardise that bubble, to jeopardise what you had with Santana at that moment, but the thoughts were back, whipping themselves up into a storm, and you just needed to ask.

“Who’s Grace Kelly?”

“An American actress and the Princess of Monaco, why?” Santana replied, not looking up from her notes, scribbling song choices and rearranging segments here and there.

“No, I know that. I mean, who’s the ghost of Grace Kelly? You kept mentioning her on your set before...before we began talking and doing whatever this is,” you waved your hand between each of you, and shrugged, because you really didn’t know what was going on exactly. Just that you liked it.

This time, your words made Santana stop, her pencil falling short on the page, and she cocked her head to the side before looking up at you. You chewed on your bottom lip, wondering if you should just take the plunge and ask more questions, but you weren’t sure how it would go down.

But Santana had yet to answer, and that was feeding your suspicions.

“Was there another girl? Before I became Lucy Q and you could mention me on air, was there another girl? I mean, we aren’t exactly...it wouldn’t be an problem, I just...wanted to know.” Did you really want to know, though? Because the answer had the potential to hurt you, and that sucked. You weren’t quite sure what you would do if Santana said that yes, there was another girl that she had been trying to impress before you.

It wouldn’t make you special. It would make you like all the others, whoever the others were, because a second ago there was one girl and now you were jumping to there being more.

“There was another girl, yeah,” Santana began, and you felt your whole body internally curl up, as if about to be kicked. Externally, the only sign of your discomfort would be the look in your eyes. “But she was a stranger, a girl I didn’t know, I saw on campus, and realised ‘holy crap she’s gorgeous’.”

“Just a stranger?” Your words shouldn’t have been that shaky, but they were, and there shouldn’t have been that sliver of hope that the other girl was gone, but there was.

“Yeah,” Santana nodded, “and then she walked in to B02, chummy with Mike, getting to know my friends, and it kinda felt like my whole world was crashing in because there’s the ghost of Grace Kelly and she’s even more stunning in person, and God, she’s actually got a personality. I’m doomed.” Santana mashed her lips together and sunk back against the shelf behind her, looking straight at you. “I was a bit of a bitch to her, because surely my luck would run out and she’d be straight, but then again, I don’t think she is. Now, now she’s not a stranger, she’s Lucy Q, or Quinn Fabray, as I only just found out her surname. And I’ve got to say, it’s a hell of a lot better knowing the girl, than the ghost.” You paused, taking a moment.

“Me?” you asked, losing all track of thought, all preplanned words and sentences.

“You. You’re the ghost of Grace Kelly, who looked like she was ready to jump off the nearest tall building while sitting out in the quad when I first saw her.” It was scary how close to the truth Santana was, but maybe she knew that.

“You didn’t know me.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement that had you rather baffled.

“I didn’t think I ever would get to,” Santana replied, shrugging.

You nodded, understanding that, because what were the chances?, before looking down at your lap. This was certainly new information, information you didn’t know how to process.

You remember feeling envious of Rosario’s smitten attitude towards the ghost of Grace Kelly, and to find out that was Santana about you, well, that put a whole new perspective on things.

“You don’t look like that anymore,” Santana said, pulling you from your thoughts, and you looked back up to her, frowning in question. “I mean, you don’t look like you want to jump off the nearest tall building.” Because you didn’t, because of Mike, and B02, and the radio station, and Rosario, and Santana. “I’m glad,” she continued, her gaze piercing. “I’m really glad you don’t look like that anymore.”

You were too.

Giving her a soft smile, you picked up your pen and tried to look like you were going to work again, and Santana got the message, and she picked up her pencil and went back to writing notes on songs for her set that night.

Only, you couldn’t concentrate, which shouldn’t have been surprising. Those songs, those comments, they were for you. You had no idea, but they were for you. She had been telling campus, and whoever else tuned in to listen, that she was crushing hard for this one girl, for you. She’d never been shy about it.

So why were you? Why were you only letting her have bits and pieces of your affection? You liked her, god, did you like her. So what was the issue? You needed to tell her. You needed to let her know that this wasn’t some silly game for you, with the teasing and the noncommittal attitude you had. You needed to let her know that she meant something to you.

Clearing your throat, you tried to draw Santana’s attention, but she was either convinced you really did need to clear your throat or ignoring you. You really doubted it would be the latter, but just in case it was, you thought it best to get her attention another way.

“I like you,” you said, plainly, bluntly, and waited.

“Hmm?” That did the trick, as Santana lifted her head, looking at you like she’d heard you wrong.

“I like you, I don’t know what this is, but whatever it is, I like it, and I like you. I just thought you should know,” you finished, shrugging to make it look nonchalant, but probably failing miserably.

“I like you too,” Santana replied, a smile playing at her lips. “I like you too,” she repeated, and then went back to her notes, but you could see the grin on her lips as she did so. It had you smiling, too, and you opted to actually go back to working this time.

That had done the job, it had cleared the air, and at least you knew where the two of you stood. And later, when you were back in your dorm room, you’d laugh giddily about how this amazing girl had been playing songs to you for so long, and that she was actually interested in you.

Yeah, bringing it up was definitely the right thing to do.

*0*0*

That night, you sat up studying, and eagerly awaiting Santana’s set. Yeah, you really wanted to hear her last song, but you also were just excited to listen to the songs, to listen to her in action.

Since knowing it was her, not some other student dubbed Rosario Cruz, you wanted to go back to that connection you had. Only, it was stronger now, because it was Santana, it was her who was able to lift your spirits with her song choices and her enthusiasm on air.

The set itself was going really well, and she’d played a few songs that had you grinning like an idiot, and gosh, you wished you could be in the booth with her again. You needed to ask her if that was something you could do again, because you loved it, you loved seeing her work, seeing her process and what was going on. And you really wanted to talk to her, too.

_Play me a song_ \- you texted out, before hitting send.

_Fuck off -_ was the instant reply, but it was followed by a winking emoticon, so okay, she wasn’t being mean.

_Play me a song!!_ It only took a second, and then she was replying again.

_What song do you want?_

_Something good._ That would rile her up, which was always worth it.

Given the last time you riled her up she performed in a burlesque show to Blondie, you really felt like you couldn’t lose out here.

_Bitch. All I play is good music. - Now, what do you want?_ Her text made you laugh, and you were quick to respond.

_Surprise me._ You wanted to see what she’d come up with on her own.

_Fine, song after next is for you._

You waited and listened to the current track bleed into the next one; and once that one was finished, Santana’s voice filled the airways.

“Got a special request from Lucy Q, who feels the need to highjack my carefully planned set lists. But here we go. This one’s for her,”

You waited with bated breath, and then couldn’t help but laugh as the familiar intro kicked in, and Santana was playing you The Human League’s ‘Don’t You Want Me’. You got the gist of her message, you got it loud and clear, and to reinforce it, the chorus finally played.

_Don't you want me, baby?_

_Don't you want me, oh?_

_Don't you want me, baby?_

_Don't you want me, oh?_

You could practically see Santana’s smirk and hear her damn chuckle as you listened to the song, and yeah, she was going to pay for that. As if the question needed to be asked.

But then again, you hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with yourself.

Eventually, you were going to have to explain the fragility of your body, the scars and the emotional trauma. The longer you could hold off, however, the better. Because that was a wound you were not ready to prod at and poke. You already knew it wasn’t healed, and it would hurt. So no, keeping that out of your thing with Santana would be the best.

Thankful for the short distraction, you continued to listen as Santana resumed her set, and managed to get quite a bit of work done before the dreaded six a.m. began to roll around. Dreaded because it meant she was coming off air, but at the same time, you also longed to hear what her last song would be.

And she never disappointed.

“Last song of the night time now, and it’s a classic,” Santana began, and you rolled your eyes. “I know, I know, you all complain because I say every song is a classic, but I don’t play bad music. I only play the classics.” She honestly sounded like she believed that, too. “Anyway, my last song, last song of the night, the all important last song is...’She Drives Me Crazy’ by Fine Young Cannibals.” Oh God, she wouldn’t… “And yep, this ones for you Lucy Q. So, with that, it’s goodnight from me, and good morning to you. Enjoy!”

Santana signed off and the intro began, and okay, you might have been smiling like an idiot and laughing at the same time. She was ridiculous.

 

_I can't stop the way I feel_

_Things you do don't seem real._

_Tell me what you've got in mind,_

_'cause we're running out of time._

_Won't you ever set me free?_

_This waiting 'round's killing me._

 

_She drives me crazy like no one else._

_She drive me crazy, and I can't help myself._

_I can't get any rest,_

_People say I'm obsessed._

_Everything you say is lies,_

_But to me that's no surprise._

_What I had for you was true._

_Things go wrong, they always do._

_She drives me crazy like no one else._

_She drive me crazy, and I can't help myself._

_Tell me what you've got in mind,_

_'cause we're running out of time._

_Won't you ever set me free?_

_This waiting 'round's killing me._

_She drives me crazy like no one else._

_She drive me crazy, and I can't help myself._

_I won't make it on my own._

_No one likes to be a lone._

_She drives me crazy like no one else._

_She drive me crazy, and I can't help myself._

_She drives me crazy like no one else._

 

As the song continued, you shook your head and thought about sending her a cheeky remark, but Santana beat you to it, with your phone lighting up with an alert.

_Just so you know, it’s the best kind of crazy._

And that, that message was better than anything else you could have hoped for.

_Just so you know, I’m going to kiss you tomorrow -_ you sent back, knowing that if you had been in that booth with her, you would have done it already. You would have had her pinned up against the wall, hands in her hair or on her waist, and be kissing her without abandon.

_Just so you know, I can’t wait._

Either could you.

*0*0*


	12. Don't Get Me Wrong

*0*0*

The problem with letting Santana know you were going to kiss her meant you actually had to kiss her.

Of course there was no problem with that, you were looking forward to it, you were eagerly awaiting the exact moment because those lips, and the way she looked at you, told you just how amazing that kiss was going to be.

But getting the right moment, choosing the best moment to actually kiss her, that was a whole other ball game.

What if you caught her off guard? What if she didn't want to kiss you in public? What if you appeared too eager? What if she wanted you to kiss her the second you saw her? What if she felt rejected if you held off for a little bit? What if...what if you screwed this up by over analysing every little detail of it?

Sighing, and flouncing back onto your bed, you knew that you could easily waste several hours thinking the whole situation over, and still not find the right answer. So instead, you needed to be proactive. You needed to get up off the bed, you needed to grab a coat, put some shoes on, and get out of your dorm room. You needed to just go about your regular day like nothing big was going to happen.

And that plan worked, until you opened the door of B02, and saw Santana crouched down by the vinyl stacks there, with headphones in, and lost in her own little world.

She would see you, eventually, and you needed to think of what your next move would be. This felt like a carefully planned chess game, where every move would be scrutinised and analysed, and you didn't want to sacrifice your first move for nothing.

Only, when you thought about kissing Santana, you didn't imagine it with seven other students all within hearing distance and a clear shot of what might happen. And that thought at least allowed you to score off the possibility of kissing her right away when you saw her. Because no. That wasn't going to happen.

B02 might be one of your favourite places on campus, but you didn't want to kiss her while Sam tried to work out if he could do a perfect hip roll, and a few of the others getting ones out of their wallets and purses to throw at him.

So no. Scrap that plan. You'd do it later. Sometime later.

Even though you weren't going to be kissing Santana, you felt it was rude not to say hi to her, at least. You didn't want to give her the impression you were scared, even though you were, because that didn't scream sexy. And why you wanted to be seen as sexy when you were incapable of having sex was beyond you. But whatever. You could obsess over that fact later.

For now, you just wanted to let Santana know you weren't freaked out, you weren't going back on what you said, and that you fully had the intention to kiss her at some point during the day, or maybe this evening, whatever worked best.

Only, that sounded like you were going to arrange a time and location, which no. That wasn't sexy. That was like organised sex. Poor and stale. Or so you'd heard, because obviously your sex record was pretty blank. Thanks Puck.

Anyway, you digressed, you just wanted to let her know that you were still keen to talk to her, and that it wasn't all about her lips, and what they would feel like against yours.

And the best way to do was that, to overcome all that, was to approach her, see how she was doing, what she was doing, and maybe ease into a conversation about the weather or something equally boring. Just to let her know you were still interested. That you weren't scared. That you weren't freaking out. Because, please, did it look like you were freaking out?

You were the Queen of cool, you.

Dumping your bag by the couches, and ignoring Sam earning a good bit of money from his perfectly mastered hip rolls, you headed over to where Santana was seated in front of the stereo.

She saw you approach, and with a smile, she patted the spot next to her. You took a seat, looking at the records in front of you, and then to her tired look.

"What are you up to?" you asked, wondering if something was wrong.

"Trying to work out if this song is appropriate for my set." She indicated to one of the records, but you weren't sure which one it was. Though, that wasn't the point, because your mind was stuck on what she'd said. When did Santana bother with what was appropriate?

She always struck you as someone who was willing to push the boat out, to test the boundaries and limitations set, so to see her questioning herself over this, it stumped you.

"Appropriate?" you frowned at the word, and Santana passed you the headphones.

"I don't want any religious nuts thinking I'm calling out to them." That had you frowning deeper, but you accepted the headphones, putting them on, and awaited Santana dropping the needle on the track so you could hear just what she was worried about.

You didn't recognise the intro, so pointed for the vinyl cover to find out what you were about to listen to. It sounded like a typical 60s folk song, and reading the cover, you saw that the song was "Turn! Turn! Turn! (to Everything There Is a Season)" by The Byrds, which was an accurate description of it.

_To everything, turn, turn, turn._

_There is a season, turn, turn, turn._

_And a time to every purpose under heaven._

_A time to be born, a time to die._

_A time to plant, a time to reap._

_A time to kill, a time to heal._

_A time to laugh, a time to weep._

_To everything, turn, turn, turn._

_There is a season, turn, turn, turn._

_And a time to every purpose under heaven._

_A time to build up, a time to break down._

_A time to dance, a time to mourn._

_A time to cast away stones._

_A time to gather stones together._

Which each new line, you recognised the words more, but struggled to place them exactly. They certainly sounded familiar, although in a different order, but you didn't have chapter and verse available on the top of your head. Your father would be so disappointed.

However, the words themselves felt rather poignant, and as you listened the dong out, you wondered if this was Santana's way of letting you know there was no rush. You were probably reading too much into it, but the song was telling you exactly what you needed to hear.

There was a time for everything, and you just needed to wait, because rushing it, forcing the kiss, would be a waste.

Taking off the headphones, as the song played out, you handed them back, and examined the vinyl cover some more.

"Sounds familiar, the lyrics, I mean, but I don't know where from."

"Book of Ecclesiastes, but its in the King James Bible. The words are in a different order, but it still carries that religious aura to it. I don't want to get into that kind of debate."

"Yet you're happy to get into the political ones?" Santana raised her eyebrows in question, and you made to expand on your point. "A lot of your songs are written about the Cold War, of from the Cold War era, which is telling in the song itself. So, if that political situation didn't stop you, why let religion stop you?"

"Please, I'm very careful with what I play. The only reason Enola Gay by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark hasn't played on air is because of that exact reason."

"But why not? It reminds people, it sparks the conversation, the research, for some, into what that means. It's not just a catchy dance song. I don't see why you would hold back."

"You don't think there are just some topics to be avoided?"

"Not if my music era was the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s," you teased, shaking your head at her, and earning an eyeroll in return "You're covering the music of Vietnam, Bay of Pigs, the moon landing, the Cold War, Thatcher, Bloody Sunday, Brixton Riots, and a huge number of other life changing moments. There are so many amazing songs about so many horrible things, and yeah, a lot of them turned out to be catchy dance songs, but it filled the nightclubs, or the house parties, and everyone knew about what was going on. So why not keep it up?" you asked, although it was rhetorical. Santana gave it a moments thought before pushing on your shoulder, with a smile playing on her lips.

"You're a pain in my ass, you know that?" You grinned, and watched her.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm going to have to change my set list for tonight," she grumbled, and you laughed, feeling victorious.

"If you need any more help, let me know," you teased, and she rolled her eyes.

"You've done enough damage, but thanks." Glancing up at the clock, Santana folded up her scribbled notes, and then began putting the records back in their slots. "I've got class in fifteen. So I'll finish this tonight at the station." You stood up with her, and nodded, knowing that you might have an opportunity to see later, if she didn't mind you being there. "You'll cove come over tonight, right? I mean, you'll be at the station?" Santana asked, before trying to make an exit, and you nodded.

"Yeah, of course." That was good, that was a step in the right direction, that was just want you needed to hear. She smiled and then began walking away, only to turn back around and shoot you a bemused look.

"Oh, and am I expecting a kiss today, or was that just lip service?" she teased, and you found yourself rolling your eyes at her, much to her amusement.

"I'll kiss you, but I'm doing it on my time."

"Your time? I didn't know you had your own time. You'll need to show it to me someday." God, she was infuriating.

"Get lost," you barked, and she laughed.

"Going." And with that, Santana left you, with heat on your cheeks, and a smile on your lips.

*0*0*

For the rest of the day, you went about things like nothing exciting was happening. However, from the way your heart raced at the thought, and the somersaults your stomach was doing, it was obvious that you were a little amped up about what was ahead.

When you finally did make it to the radio station, a little after eleven o'clock that night, you felt like you'd had six espresso shots and a case of energy drinks. God knows why you were geared up so much, especially when you were so damn good at freaking out over the simplest things, and this had 'meltdown' written all over it.

Except, all that changed when you saw Santana standing amongst the music, enjoying the song that was playing over the speakers, and suddenly all the nerves were gone.

You felt confident, with the nerves and excitement dying away, and leaving you calm, composed, and god, you needed to kiss her.

Walking down the aisle to where she was standing, Santana caught sight of you and smirked. It had you smiling at her as you neared closer, until you were within a few feet.

"Rumour has it you're going to kiss me today," she said, eyes full of amusement.

"Do you always believe the rumours?" you shot back, and Santana's smirk calmed a little.

"Not always, but I had it on good authority that you'd be kissing me. Am I wrong?"

"No, you're right." And the smirk was back. "I am going to kiss you." This statement was followed up by you moving to stand only a few inches away from her, leaning on the stack of records, mimicking her pose.

"Are you actually going to do it, or are you just going to keep saying you'll kiss me?" she teased, practically laughing at you, making you grin.

"Shut up, and I'll do it." You would, you were so close, physically as well as mentally prepared. It would only take one step, one moment for you to lean in...

"So you keep saying, yet, I have no proof you'll follow through," she added, looking mock confused, and god, would she just be quiet for a moment?

"Santana!" you moaned at her, and she laughed back at you.

"Quinn!" she called, mocking you further.

"You're impossible."

"You're nervous," she finally said, losing the smirk and replacing it with a soft smile. Her gaze was warm, inviting, and she could obviously see that while you built yourself up to be confident, it did lack in some areas.

"So?" How very eloquent of you.

"It's just me, you know. I already danced burlesque for you, changed my whole set for you, dedicated songs to you, so I'm pretty sure I'm buying whatever it is you're selling." All of that was true.

"Probably not the best idea to use an idiom that implies I'm a prostitute, Santana," you rolled your eyes, just to give her a hard time for the sake of a hard time. But she saw right through it, and waved it off.

"Whatever. Are you going to kiss me? Cause I've been looking forward to this all day. Don't let a girl down." You wouldn't. You wouldn't. You couldn't.

Thinking about it for a moment, you realised, it wasn't this big thing. With her, it wasn't a big deal, it wasn't this monumental occasion that you were building it up to be. It was just a kiss, a carefree, happy, smiling, kiss. Or it was going to be, when you finally kissed her.

It wasn't a moment of dread for what might come, because she wasn't pressuring you. She wasn't desperate to get her hand under your skirt, and get you on your back. She wasn't rushing you. She was letting you lead, and for that, you couldn't be more thankful.

She hadn't shut your nerves up with her own kiss, she hadn't moaned at you for not following through, she was giving you an out, as well as letting you know that she had been looking forward to it, that there were no doubts on her end.

It was exactly what you needed to hear, and to show how serious you were about it all, you found yourself licking your lips, and glancing down at hers. You were smiling, and so was she at the recognition of what was about to happen.

Crossing the threshold, the last few centimetres between you both, you felt your lips ghosting over hers, breathing in the air Santana was breathing out, her eyes piercing yours, her gaze darker, still as inviting, but promising so much more.

And then finally, your lips pecked Santana's softly, just experiencing a glimpse of their softness, which was fleeting, so quick you could have imagined it.

But then you were back, your lips on hers, hers kissing you back, catching your bottom lip between hers, moving in to kiss you back again and again. And you were lost. She was soft, and gentle, but the kiss was firm enough to show her desire, to remind you that she wanted you, very much so. And her hands on your waist were a big enough reminder of that, with one then moving to cup your cheek, to run through your hair, to keep you close, and God, you felt like you were drowning in this kiss, but it was a death worth dying.

She had your heart racing, your mind numb, and your body alight. You couldn't get enough. Another kiss, another whimper, another kiss, another caress, another kiss, another stolen breath.

Until no more, until you needed to breath, properly this time, until you broke away, leaning your forehead on hers, and trying to catch your breath. It was still the very one she was breathing out, though, but even then, that was better than the alternative; moving away from her.

You wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, to wrap your arms around her neck and kiss her until your lips were bruised.

"God," Santana moaned, her hands back on your hips and giving them a light squeeze.

"Worth the wait?" you wondered, your voice as husky as hers.

"You have no idea," she groaned, leaning in, kissing you again, making you forget your name, where you were, and everything else that was going on other than her kiss. "Stick around tonight?" Santana asked, pulling back again, and you were powerless to say no.

"Yeah? You sure?" You weren't quite sure if that was a good idea, but like you said, powerless.

"Please."

"Of course." That earned you a grin, and then Santana was dropping her head onto your shoulder and turning your embrace into a hug. "You okay?" you wondered, hugging her back, loving the feeling of her arms around you.

"I'm great." You believed her, fully, as she grinned at you. "Now, come on, I need your help fixing the set I destroyed earlier." Nodding, you accepted her hand in yours, and followed her around the stacks, searching for certain records, and offering suggestions here and there.

You couldn't keep the smile off your face, and neither could she, which only made you smile wider.

That was the type of kiss you needed, no pressure, no strings attached, no fine print, just a kiss that held potential, and a girl who made your body sing from simple touches. Santana was everything you needed and wanted, without ever realising it.

*0*0*

"Evening all," Santana chimed, "I hope you're all having a good night, or a good morning, depending on how you view it. To kick things off, we're going to start with some OMD - that's Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, for any uneducated folks out there. This is a personal favourite, and while not only catchy, the lyrics are a step above everything else. This was smart writing, educational and timeless. Listen, take it in, and learn."

_Enola Gay, you should have stayed at home yesterday_

_Ah-ha words can't describe the feeling and the way you lied_

_These games you play they're going to end in more than tears some day_

_Ah-ha Enola Gay it shouldn't ever have to end this way_

_It's eight fifteen and that's the time that it's always been_

_We got your message on the radio_

_Conditions normal and you're coming home_

_Enola Gay, is mother proud of Little Boy today_

_Ah-ha this kiss you give, it's never going to fade away_

_Enola Gay, it shouldn't ever have to end this way_

_Ah-ha Enola Gay, it shouldn't fade in our dreams away_

_It's eight fifteen and that's the time that it's always been_

_We got your message on the radio_

_Conditions normal and you're coming home_

_Enola Gay, is mother proud of Little Boy today_

_Ah-ha this kiss you give, it's never ever going to fade away_

"Too much?" Santana asked, and you shook your head in reply, sitting in the booth with her. "You sure?" she asked again.

"I'm sure." That had her smiling, and she reached across to hold your hand.

"Thanks, for...you know...with the songs," she shrugged, like it was nothing, and you laughed, shaking your head. That side of her was definitely foreign to you, but it was definitely interesting to see it, and you wondered just how comfortable Santana was with you now.

"I didn't do anything, so definitely no reason to thank me," you replied.

"Lies, but whatever. Now, let me work, or I'll kick you out," she teased, and please, like that would ever happen.

Except it did.

"I need you to leave the booth. I can't concentrate with you here," Santana said, twenty minutes later, and you couldn't quite believe what you were hearing.

"You're kidding?" She had to be kidding. There was just no way.

"Quinn, I dropped the needle late. That's my talent, being able to get it perfect. But I've screwed it up. So please, please, just wait out there?" Santana said, pointing through the glass window to the music library.

"You're ridiculous," you uttered, shocked.

"And you have destroyed me with your lips," she said dramatically, causing you to roll your eyes, ruffling her hair as you passed, to leave her to her work.

You weren't going to argue, because the song currently playing was running out of time, and please, you weren't going to be that girl. But still, you really couldn't believe she'd kicked you out of the booth.

And it was absurd that within ten minutes of you being out the booth, Santana seemed to have found her talent back. And when she dropped the needle on the vinyl perfect, she stood up in celebration after and used the time to dance to the song playing through the speakers.

You were annoyed at yourself for finding it endearing, and you internally grumbled at yourself for wanting to go back in the booth and kiss her again, just to see if that would screw up her set again.

Santana would probably have kittens if you did, so best not to. Or, not until she was crazy about you to the point she couldn't get mad at you. Give it time.

As you were no longer allowed in the booth, you headed off to make yourself busy; putting cds back in their rightful place and cleaning up the shelves. It was usually all done by Santana's set, but there was enough for you to pass the time until the most important part of her set.

"My last song of the night is, you've guessed it, a classic," Santana teased, knowing the Facebook page was going to be inundated with comments about that again. "But, it's also special to me right now because I have been dazed these last few hours, and honestly, I don't know how I've made it through this set in one piece. I am reeling, I am lost, because this amazing girl kissed me today, and my mind has vanished on me. Hopefully, tomorrow I'll be back with regular programming, but until then, enjoy the Pretenders' with Don't Get Me Wrong. And with that, it's goodnight from me, and good morning to you," Santana finished, sounding so upbeat, like she was grinning into the mic, and you felt the heat in your cheeks.

The song matched Santana's sign off mood, and you laughed when you got to the end of the aisle, shaking your head at her through the glass window. She had her hand over her heart and was looking at you in a way that had you weak.

You really might just be falling head over heels for this girl; and you had no problem with that. No problem at all.

_Don't get me wrong_

_If I'm looking kind of dazzled_

_I see neon lights_

_Whenever you walk by_

_Don't get me wrong_

_If you say "hello" and I take a ride_

_Upon a sea where the mystic moon_

_Is playing havoc with the tide_

_Don't get me wrong_

_Don't get me wrong_

_If I'm acting so distracted_

_I'm thinking about the fireworks_

_That go off when you smile_

_Don't get me wrong_

_If I split like light refracted_

_I'm only off to wander_

_Across a moonlit mile_

_Once in awhile_

_Two people meet_

_Seemingly for no reason_

_They just pass on the street_

_Suddenly thunder, showers everywhere_

_Who can explain the thunder and rain_

_But there's something in the air_

_Don't get me wrong_

_If I come and go like fashion_

_I might be great tomorrow_

_But hopeless yesterday_

_Don't get me wrong_

_If I fall in the 'Mode of Passion'_

_It might be unbelievable_

_But let's not say "So long"_

_It might just be fantastic_

_Don't get me wrong_

*0*0*


	13. You Can't Hurry Love

 

*0*0*

Kissing Santana was like being electrocuted - to some extent. It travelled through your body, from your lips right down your spine, to your fingertips, causing them to tingle and reach out, and onwards, down to your toes. It was a full body experience, one that left your alight, bright, and very much turned on.

That wasn’t really something you were used to dealing with. Yes, you’d been attracted to people before. And yes, you had been turned on before, but this...this was so much more. This was something new, and whether it was because she was the first girl you had ever...you weren’t sure, but it was different. It felt like more. It made you feel alive, kissing her, touching her, just being with her, and maybe that was how relationships were meant to be, you didn’t know, but god, it made you want to never stop kissing her.

Of course, that was entirely impractical, and you did have to stop. You had to go to classes, you had to sleep, you had to eat, you had to exist outside of Santana and the radio station. Doing so was good for you, as the more you thought over the situation, you realised that you hadn’t really carved a life for yourself at Yale yet.

You may have found friends in Mike, Sam, and Tina; and whatever was going on with Santana was great, but outside of that, there wasn’t much else. Perhaps you needed to branch out more. It very much felt like you had put all your eggs in one basket, and as life had taught you before, that was not a wise thing to do.

You had B02, you had the radio station, but they were very much Santana centric. If, and heaven forbid, but if things went south, you were going to find yourself alone again. And that thought, that thought scared you right back into your dorm room, with shaky hands, and a weight on your chest you hadn’t experienced in a while.

You okay? Haven’t seen you around lately. - Santana sent you, after a couple of days with you holed up in your room, trying to pull the anxiety back under control. It was like fighting an army, blindfolded, and defenceless. You were losing, and old problems were creeping back in. Like the nightmares that had you looking like the walking dead, and the flashbacks, that had your heart racing a million miles a minute.

Staying in your room, even under your roommate's judging eyes, was better than facing the world.

Yeah, thanks. Just been under the weather lately. It was an accurate description, without revealing the truth, and gave you just enough rope to hide out for a few more days.

Only, an hour later, with Kitty gone and knocking at the door, you knew hiding wasn’t going to be possible anymore.

“Whoa, you look like shit,” Santana said, leaning in your doorway, leaving you a little dazed and confused. What was she doing there? “I’m here to make you feel better,” she replied, answering the words that had slipped out your mouth. And then you replayed what she’d said and blushed.

Pushing past you, Santana rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Not like that, you perv.”

Closing the door, you turned to find she had settled herself on your bed, and was looking you over.

“What...what is it?” you asked, wrapping your arms around your body. Now your ridiculously long cardigan, v-neck t-shirt and plaid sleep trousers felt embarrassing, which whatever, you were in your own room, but still. Santana was sitting there looking like a runway model.

“I thought you’d maybe have the flu, but the lack of tissues in here, and that full bin tell me otherwise. I can’t think it would be a stomach bug, as I saw you heading to class the other day, so...what’s up?” She looked far too inquisitive, and you wondered how you could navigate the two of you across this minefield unscathed.

“I have a back injury, it’s flared up,” you lied, somewhat. It wasn’t exactly a lie, you did have a back injury, and it was sore most of the time, but no, it wasn’t the ailment that was bothering you right now, and had you hiding away from the world.

“Oh,” Santana said, frowning. “You had that at the party, karaoke night.” Yeah, you had, and she’d remembered. Nodding, you shuffled over and crawled onto the bed next to her, by the pillows. “So you got painkillers or whatever, or exercises to help?” Her voice was concerned, with a little curiosity seeping in.

“Both. They’re not doing their usual. It’s fine. It’ll pass.” Your back pain mostly responded to the pain meds, with exercises to be done when it wasn’t sore. But given you were lying your ass off about what was actually wrong, you felt the need to be completely honest about how your meds weren’t helping with the nightmares, nor the anxiety, and certainly not with the flashbacks.

“Well, I can go and leave you to it, or we can watch West Wing season one, cause it’s awesome and Rachel told me you’ve never seen it, which is a crime, by the way. Whatever. Choice is up to you,” Santana said, trying to sound nonchalant about the offer, but obviously keen to stay with you, ‘make you feel better’, she’d said as she came in.

“Rachel, huh?” You wondered if Santana had mentioned your distance as of late, because Rachel would know instantly what was going on. She knew, more than most, what was going on when you pulled away. The pain, the nightmares, the flashbacks.

She also knew that when you crawled up inside yourself, it was safer to wait for you to reach out, than to ask what was going on or attempt to help. As stubborn as it sounded, you preferred to pick yourself back up than let anyone else do it.

And now, you were to make that decision once again; ask Santana to go, and pick yourself back up, or let her stay, and accept her help. Yes, she wouldn’t know what was exactly wrong, but inadvertently, she’d help you.

Being too Santana centric was what had you freaking out in the first place, but looking her over, with the slight worry in her eyes, and the way her hand was softly on your knee, comforting you, you knew there was no way you could ask her to go.

“You get the box set, and I’ll get the snacks,” you said, and she beamed, before telling you to stay put, and that she would do everything.

Smiling to yourself, you wondered how you got so lucky to have her in your life.

*0*0*

Two disks later, the two of you were lying, somewhat cramped together, on your bed, with your heads on the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. God knows where your roommate was, but Kitty’s absence was appreciated, as you don’t think she’d respond too kindly to you being curled up in bed with your sort-of-but-not-really-girlfriend, who was slowly waking up from a short nap she’d had.

“I fell asleep, no,” she whined, rubbing her eyes, before looking at you. “I’m sorry, I normally sleep in the evening, so I can be awake for my set.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t have to stay with me, so I don’t mind.”

“I wanted to stay. Plus, West Wing.” You rolled your eyes, smiling, and turned to lie on your side, facing her better.

The sound of the two of you breathing and the hum of the lamp on was the only sound in the room, offering a welcome silence.

Of course, you’d spent a lot of time around Rachel, and had picked up some of her bad habits, so you just had to end the silence with inane chatter. And that meant saying the first thing that came to your mind.

“You don’t sing,” you said, mulling over that thought. It had been on your mind since Mike mentioned it, and maybe because you were in Glee club, desperate to perform all the time, it came over as weird. Especially for someone like Santana. She was confident, outgoing, and even if she didn’t have the best voice in the world, you can’t imagine why that would stop her.

“What?” Santana asked, looking at you weird. Probably wondering where the hell that came from.

“At the burlesque event, you weren’t singing, and Mike mentioned something about you not singing. I didn’t think anything of it, but you didn’t sing karaoke night, either. You don’t sing.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” Shooting her a look, she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay, I don’t sing. What about it?”

“I’m just surprised. I can only imagine you have a lovely voice.” You could, you had, and with the way her voice was gravelly from sleep, you just knew she had a good singing voice.

“Well, you’d be wrong. I’m like a dying cat when I sing.” You kept her gaze, wondering if she was going to say more, because you really didn’t believe her. You weren’t going to push, you weren’t going to ask for more, but you figured there was something a little more to it than her apparently having a bad voice.

Santana pretend like you weren’t looking at her, looking everywhere but you, just reaffirming your belief that there was more going on.

“Shame, you would be a catch if you could,” you teased, trying to ease things. Santana let out a bark of laughter in return and shot you a look.

“I would be a catch?” she repeated, and you grinned back at her, loving that she took the bait. “So I’m not a catch yet? I dedicate you songs, I performed for you, I come to cheer you up when you’re not well, and I’m smoking hot, but I’m not a catch?” Mirth was in her eyes, and you loved seeing the teasing smile on her lips as she shot the words at you.

“Not yet. You don’t sing, you’re not that great a kisser-” you began to explain, only to be cut off.

“Oh, blasphemy! And you liar! I’m an amazing kisser,” Santana argued, waving her hand.

“You think?” you teased, trying to be serious.

“You know I am.”

“I might have forgotten,” you replied, shrugging, but subtly moving a little bit closer to her.

“Oh, well, that’s easily solved.”

Smiling into the kiss, you reached out, your hand finding her waist, and hers finding your cheek, kissing her between the smiles. But like always, with each kiss with Santana, the potency of it knocked the smile off your face, and had your body moving closer to hers on instinct.

You wanted to get closer, to be the air in her lungs, the words on her tongue, and the hair gripped between her fingers as her body moved in ecstasy. But this was just a kiss, a kiss with the promise of all that, but still just a kiss.

Santana’s whimper as she moved to lean over you, pushing you onto your back, set you alight, and god, you gasped between kisses, feeling her fire through your body and ignite you from the inside out.

And just like that, she seemed to flip a switch, and the heat was dissipated with each calming kiss, that had gone from fire, potency and euphoria, to gentle, sweet, and a promise of one day.  

“You have no idea how much I’d love to keep going, but I need to go. I don’t want to kiss and run, but I have to get to the station. I still have some of my set to sort out, and find my records. You could come, though?” Only after she said the words did she realise how they sounded, and the smirk that grew on her face had you laughing and shaking your head.

“I think its safer if I stay and the rest, but I’ll be listening.”

Leaning back over you, Santana cupped your cheeks in her hand and leant forward to kiss you again, her lips so soft, pulling you in deeper, reigniting that fire somewhat, before starving it of oxygen and shutting it down.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, and if you need anything, feel free to text me. Obviously, I won’t be of any use during my set, but I can bully someone into getting whatever it is you need and bringing it to you. So please, get in touch,” Santana explained as she crawled off the bed  You reached out to her, holding her hand in yours and giving it a squeeze in thanks.

“Stay safe, and I’ll see you tomorrow, “ you replied, smiling softly at her.

Santana nodded, giving you one last look, before heading for the door. She left you West Wing, to keep you occupied, and tomorrow she’d be back with more snacks for you. Until then, you were to rest.

Given there was an hour or so before her set, you curled up further in bed, with the hopes of a short nap, one that won’t let the nightmares in, before waking for her set.

*0*0*

You did wake in time, and with a glance over at Kitty’s bed, you saw she had returned at some point, and was sleeping soundly. To be sure not to wake her, you put your headphones in, and got the app set up to listen.

After the intro jingle for the radio station, you were welcomed by Santana’s voice, and knew the next few hours were going to be great.

“Welcome everyone, I’m Rosario Cruz and I will be your port of call for the next four hours. Let’s kick things off with Senses Working Overtime by XTC. I originally had another song lined up to kick things off, but I couldn’t stop singing the chorus on my way over. That’s all thanks to Lucy Q who had my senses working overtime not that long ago, and please no rude comments on the Facebook page about that. Anyway, enjoy!”

_Hey hey,the clouds are whey,_

_There's straw for the donkeys_

_And the innocents can all sleep safely_

_All sleep safely._

_My my, sun is pie_

_There's fodder for the cannons_

_And the guilty ones can all sleep safely_

_All sleep safely._

_And all the world is football shaped,_

_It's just for me to kick in space_

_And I can see, hear, smell, touch, taste_

_And I've got one, two, three, four, five senses working overtime_

_Trying to take this all in,_

_I've got one, two, three, four, five senses working overtime_

_Trying to taste the difference 'tween the lemons and limes_

_The pain and the pleasure and_

_The church bells softly chime..._

She was singing on the way over. Singing.

_If you were singing on the way over, then I think you might be quite a catch._ You sent her, and not a second later, she’d replied.

_Turns out I’m a catch._

You smiled, and shook your head, because you just knew you’d most likely never hear her sing, but hell, she was singing, so that was something.

For the rest of the set, you found new songs that you liked, learnt of new bands, and as always, Santana was keen to discuss the era these songs were from, what they meant in the broader terms, and what to listen out for in the songs. It made for enjoyable and easy listening.

Of course, it had to end, and you needed to try and get some sleep as much as she did, so with the eagerly awaited last song about to play, you lay at the ready, curious to see what it was going to be.

“We’re ending tonight’s set, or this morning's, on a personal favourite,” Santana began, and one day you’d tease her about how many favourites she seemed to have. “To see us out, we have The Supremes, with Can’t Hurry Love. Have to say, it’s very true, but I think I’ve done my waiting and everything’s coming to fruition. Leaving it on that note, it’s goodnight from me, and good morning to you. See you tomorrow!”

_I need love, love to ease my mind,_

_I need to find, find someone to call mine,_

_But mama said you can't hurry love,_

_No you just have to wait,_

_She said love don't come easy,_

_It's a game of give and take._

_You can't hurry love,_

_No, you just have to wait,_

_You gotta trust, give it time,_

_No matter how long it takes;_

_But how many heartaches must I stand_

_Before I find a love to let me live again._

_Right now the only thing that keeps me hanging on,_

_When I feel my strength, yeah, it's almost gone,_

_I remember mama said,_

_You can't hurry love,_

_No you just have to wait,_

_She said love don't come easy,_

_It's a game of give and take._

Santana’s words rang through your mind as the song played, and you sat stumped. Everything was coming to fruition.

Did that mean she loved you? Did that mean she was falling in love with you? Did that mean you two were actually together now?

There was an obvious need for clarity, and while you didn’t want to rush things, your feeling for Santana, and her feelings for you, were leading to the obvious. You two should officially start dating, and just see where things go.

You certainly couldn’t foresee why there would be any issues with that. Everything was coming to fruition, after all.

 

*0*0*


	14. Everywhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...it's almost been a year, and now finally an update - I do apologise, and if you're still reading, thank you for coming back and sticking with this. 
> 
> Some of you have asked about a playlist for this story, there is a link on my tumblr to one on spotify; [ComfortablyObsessed](http://comfortablyobsessed.tumblr.com/)

*0*0*

You were your own worst enemy; that was the only conclusion you could come to.

When things start going right for you, you’d freak the fuck out and ruin them. That’s what you do, so God only knows why you were so surprised when your anxiety kicked you down again.

You needed to stop overanalyzing everything. You needed to just give into your emotions, to allow yourself to feel things. Yes, it was easier to block it out, because there was a tidal wave inside you, ready to devastate everything in its path. But, your life was on the up, and you had to stop drowning yourself.

A good way to improve your day, to stop the heavy emotions taking over, was to call your best friend and listen to her upbeat and  happy voice. Rachel could always pick you up after a fall. Plus, Rachel always gave good advice, and right about now, you needed that.

Things with Santana were going in the right direction, definitely in the right direction, but that meant opening up to one another, trusting one another, and how, how could you do that?

There were so many different aspects to her life, from teen pregnancy to living in her car, to then the car accident, and everything in between, so how, how could she even start to open up?

Santana might run for the hills, and that, you weren’t ready to face. You couldn’t lose your friends, you just, that wasn’t, you needed-

“Hey, Quinn, you okay? I wasn’t expecting to speak to you until tomorrow night. Not that I’m complaining, of course, because it’s always good to hear from you, I’m just wondering if everything is okay. Is it, is everything okay?” You smiled down the phone, shaking your head at Rachel’s concern.

“Don’t worry, Rach, I’m in one piece.” Physically, you were in one piece. “I just...I wanted your advice...on Santana?” You let the words hang, and you heard Rachel make a small ‘oh’ sound on the other end.

“Okay, what advice are you looking for?”

“We’re...friends.” Friends that make out, but still. “And I’m debating whether to tell her more about me.”

“Quinn, I know Santana wasn’t exactly the nicest person to you to begin with, which again, I had no clue about. However, she really cares about you, and I think that you should share whatever you feel comfortable with. Santana will listen, and she won’t judge.”

“Everyone judges.”

“True, but honestly, I think sharing more about your past with Santana could be good.” Rachel paused for a second, but you knew there was more to her words, and waited. “When you went to Yale, I was worried. It was stupid because you’re amazing, but I was scared you were going to go and end up in that dark place again, alone and upset and cut off and I was worried. But, you have amazing friends, Sam, Mike, Tina and then, you have Santana. They’ll all be there for you, Quinn. I don’t think you need to worry about keeping yourself so locked up and closed off with them. If they knew, they could help you and support you.”

God. Rachel’s words had knocked the air out of your lungs, and you were gasping, your throat tightening, and fuck. She had worried about you becoming exactly what you had; a loner, a pariah, a loser. If your need to keep up appearances had failed, she would have realised her worries had come true.

“I-I don’t want them to see me as a victim to pity,” you managed out, wiping a stray tear off your cheek, annoyed that your body was betraying you right now.

“They won’t pity you, Quinn; they’ll see you for who you are, someone so strong, who got back up after so many falls.” You wanted to believe Rachel, but sometimes you thought you saw pity in her eyes, and that made it harder. “Even if you don’t talk to them all, it would be good to talk with Santana. Maybe take baby steps- and oh, gosh, that was the worst, I shouldn’t have said that- what I mean is only share a little, if you don’t want to mention Beth, or your parents, don’t. Just, take it slow. Learn to walk before you start running. And oh gosh, I did it again, I’m so sorry!” Rachel cried out, and you could picture her freaking out on the other end.

You couldn’t help but laugh, because please, your life was a fucking disaster.

“Relax, Rach, I get what you’re saying.”

“You do? I haven’t offended you terribly by these poor sayings?”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve helped. I’ve been debating things, debating telling Santana more, and...and yeah, I think you’re right. It would be good.” It was necessary, especially if the two of you kept making out, but still, it had the potential to be good for you. “Now, tell me what you’ve been getting up to,” you said, tone light, and looking for that upbeat distraction.

With Rachel, that always worked, she bounced off into her classes and some of the auditions she had and what the drama was in her friend group, and you must have smiled the whole conversation.

It wasn’t until you hung up that you realised, and began to accept, you were going to have to start opening up more, so you could get more people like Rachel in your life.

*0*0*

It was easy to believe you would in fact take the plunge and start opening up to Santana, you just had to wait for the right time. You saw her around a lot on campus, more so now than ever, and you still saw her regularly at the radio station, but it wasn’t really the time or place to bring up teen pregnancy and car crashes.

Finding yourself back in the basement rooms, using the space to go over some notes, while keeping you out of your dorm room, you were surrounded by people who were slowly becoming friends, or were in fact friends. Eventually, they’d find out, too. That thought had you biting your lip, and trying to push all anxiety that came with it.

What were you doing? Baby steps first. Talk to Santana, then worry about the rest.

And as luck would have it, Santana was going to give you just the opening you needed.

You had seen her arrive earlier, but she looked on a mission to talk to someone, so kept your greetings to a simple nod. She would come over sooner or later, that you knew, and when she did, you found yourself giving her a soft smile.

“Hey,” Santana greeted, taking a seat next to you. “You okay?” she frowned, glancing you over, not finding what she expected in your smile.

“Yeah, I’m good.” It was such an easy lie, and you wondered when it became second nature for you. The anxiety was still running through your system, made worse because she was right there and you had to come clean about several things.

“Well, in that case, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to get out of here.” You bit your lip again, and raised your eyebrow, unsure where she was going with this. “My afternoon class was cancelled, and I know you don’t have any classes this afternoon, so I thought we could maybe go back to mine and hang out.”

Hang out.

Was that a euphemism for sex? Christ, you had no idea. For all you knew, it could be.

Swallowing, you thought over your options, before looking at Santana. She looked hopeful, curious, lacking the sexual smirk or the lustful gaze, and maybe she actually meant hang out.

Plus, going would give you the opportunity to see her place, which you had been very intrigued about.

And back up, she knew your class schedule? When had she learnt that?

Nevermind.

“I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” The surprise looked cute on her, and you laughed, nodding.

“I’ll just gather my things.”

“Great,” she murmured, as if this was entirely unexpected, and then went to grab her own.

The two of you met by the door, walking side by side out of the building, and then heading over to the carpark. Santana rooted around in her bag for some keys, before unlocking a nearby car, and letting the two of you get in.

You watched as she maneuvered out of the carpark and away from campus. The radio was on, and you recalled how she didn’t sing, but humming, apparently, was allowed. She’d hum to the beat every now and then, earning a smile, and you did feel rather privileged to get to witness her like this.

Santana parked behind an apartment block, and led you up three flights of stairs to her place. She had to shimmy the door a little to get it open, and then waved her hand for you to go in first. Her apartment was pretty open-plan, with you walking into a small hallway that opened right up into the living room, kitchen off the back of that, and doors off another hallway behind them.

“Make yourself at home,” Santana said, dropping her bag by the couch, and then nipping into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

Santana then spent the next few minutes rummaging through what she had, and just grabbing you a juice anyway, before placing them on the coffee table, and turning on her TV, getting up netflix.

She handed you the playstation handset to decide, and you smiled, going through her recently watched and recommended. It took a while, but you both settled on something  neither of you had seen, and okay, this felt very normal.

Your earlier panic of was this going to be about sex seemed to be seriously misplaced. Santana hadn’t even kissed you. She was giving you space, a comfortable distance between the two of you on the couch, and maybe this was the exact environment you needed to tell Santana more about the boundaries you needed.

This was probably one of the perfect times to tell her; the two of you were alone, there was no chance of interruption, and if your mask fell and the dam broke, you could cry without being seen by loads of other people.

But your staring at her had caught her attention, and she shot you a shy look, then a sly smile as she glanced down at your lips, and okay, maybe you could discuss boundaries later. After all, it wasn’t like you were going to have sex today.

Plus, with the way she was looking at you, there were more productive, more fun, things to be doing instead.

And then it became easy to talk yourself out of it; you were farther from campus than you would have liked, so if you needed to leave it was going to be a long walk back, and that would aggravate all your problems. So no, you couldn’t. Not yet.

“You okay? You’ve got that look again,” Santana asked, shuffling a little closer, and you tried to wipe your expression clean.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about something.” She rose her eyebrows in question, but you shook your head. You weren’t going to. You had made your mind up. “Forget about it, I now have something better in mind.”

The way your eyes moved to her lips again was not missed, and you watched her newly formed smirk change into a smile as she reached out for your hand.

It was so easy to reach out, too, to cup her cheek in your hand and fall further into her, forehead against hers, breathing in the last of your breaths before closing the distance.

Kissing her was definitely something you were never going to tire of. The softness of her lips was uncomparable, and each kiss had you sinking more and more into her. It was exactly what you needed to relieve all anxiety, relaxing all the tense muscles in your back, and you let out a content sigh against her lips.

It was all going so damn well, and then you felt her hand move.

You froze. Santana had slipped her hands down your waist, but upon feeling you tense, she pulled back, frowning in concern. You quickly masked the panic, and shrugged, like it was nothing, and she smiled, trying to ease whatever worries you were focusing on.

“A little making out never hurt no one,” she said, that cheeky smirk making you roll your eyes.

“I’m pretty certain that’s not true, but I get what you’re trying to say.” You did, and she was sweet for trying.

“Great-” Santana began, moving back in again, her hands sliding onto your waist again, higher, closer to your chest, and wait.

“Mmm,” you began, moving back once more, “but we’re just making out,” you said, hoping she could feel the forcefulness behind that comment. And hey, this was progress, you were giving boundaries! Granted, you hadn’t explained why you needed them, but they were still there.

“I know, but I want to put my hands to good use,” Santana murmured, not getting what was wrong with that.

“I’m not taking my top off,” you said, your eyes pleading that she would understand.

She had to understand. You needed her to. You couldn’t have her being like Finn or Puck or the many others who wanted what they wanted and didn’t mind you were uncomfortable with it.

“Well-” And okay, no, this was going so well, please.

Was Santana one of those people that needed to have sex to be happy? Was she one of those people that didn’t think a romantic relationship was proper until sex had been had? Because you couldn't deal with that. You couldn’t.

“I know you might not want to hear this, that I need to take things slow, and I’m sorry, except, I’m not. I’m not sorry. If you have an issue with that, then we should just stop right now-” you went on to say, moving back further, putting some distance between you, only to be cut off again mid sentence.

“Quinn,” Santana said, calmly, a small smile on her lips, and God, what was she going to say?

“What?” You could feel the nerves in the pit of your stomach, because if you had to leave, was she going to make you walk home?

“I was going to say ‘well, can I at least take my top off?’”

“Oh.” That was...unexpected.

“Yeah. Oh,” Santana teased, smirking.

“Sorry-” Embarrassment covered your cheeks, and you shook your head, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Don’t be, but can I?” she asked again, and Santana’s hands were at the base of her top, ready to pull it over her head, if given the get go.

“Hell yeah,” you murmured, like she actually had to ask. That earned you a beautiful laugh and smile, and God, you’d do anything to keep seeing that.

Then, Santana’s top hit the coffee table behind her, and she was there in her jeans and black bra and you were in heaven.

This was heaven.

*0*0*

Santana dropped you back off at your dorm when she headed in for her shift that night, and you were grinning ear to ear.

She hadn’t pushed. She hadn’t tried to make you go further than what you could handle. Instead, she sat astride you, arms round your neck, kissing you until your lips were bruised, and ever so gently grinding down on your lap. It had you buzzing, aflame with want, and God, she was so stunning, her hair messed, her chest heaving, her skin soft to the touch, and you were in so, so deep.

It was lust, but the tenderness in her kisses, the way she ran her hands through your hair, kissing up your neck, and entwining her fingers with yours spoke of an intimacy of another type.

So of course, when you got back to your dorm room, quietly so you didn’t wake your roommate up, you changed into pyjamas, and sunk into bed, phone and headphones in hand, ready to listen to Rosario Cruz’s set.

There was still a little time, and the last song from the previous set played out, you lay, still abuzz, and wondered if you would actually get sleep that night, or if you’d simply end up listening to her set all the way through.

And then her voice came through your headphones, and your grin widened in the dark.

“Evening folks, I’m Rosario Cruz, your guide for the night as we tour some of the greatest songs of the eighties. Tonight, I’m feeling like we should have a theme, so hit us up on Facebook, tweet me, whatever, and see if you can work out what it is. Now, first stop on the tour, British duo Erasure, and their classic, ‘A Little Respect’.”

The bouncy intro started, and then the vocals hit, and you knew from the get go, tonight’s set wasn’t to be missed.

 

_I try to discover_

_A little something to make me sweeter_

_Oh baby refrain from breaking my heart_

_I'm so in love with you_

_I'll be forever blue_

_That you give me no reason_

_Why you're making me work so hard_

_That you give me no_

_That you give me no_

_That you give me no_

_That you give me no_

_Soul, I hear you calling_

_Oh baby please give a little respect to me_

You couldn’t help but wonder...the one lyric that stood out, above all else, and no. It couldn’t. Santana wouldn’t. You’d need to keep listening to the rest of the set before drawing any conclusions.

And that’s what you did. To hell with sleep, your non-girlfriend was playing love song after love song, all declaring their love and intent, and you couldn’t help but feel elation through every cell of your body as the set continued.

“Last stop on our tour, but before we get there, let’s have a little talk about your comments. A lot of you are giving stick that I’m not subtle, and hey, I never set out to be subtle; I’m trying to tell a girl how I feel, why should that be subtle?” she argued, and you could feel your heart racing at the thought, as well as imagining her bickering into the mic. “There’s quite a few speculations on just who the girl is, Lucy Q being the favourite, but I’m afraid that’s for me to know and you to keep guessing.” That time, you could actually hear her smirk through the headphones, and you fought back a laugh. “Anyway, show time, final song, the one to end the night and this fabulous tour, if I do say so myself, which I do, of the eighties. Of course, we have to go to a classic, classic band, classic song, just all round classic; it’s Fleetwood Mac, with Everywhere. And with that, it’s goodnight from me, and good morning to you.”

 

_Can you hear me calling_

_Out your name_

_You know that I'm falling_

_And I don't know what to say_

_I'll speak a little louder_

_I'll even shout_

_You know that I'm proud_

_And I can't get the words out_

_Oh I,_

_I want to be with you everywhere_

_Oh I,_

_I want to be with you everywhere_

_(Wanna be with you everywhere)_

_Something's happening_

_Happening to me_

_My friends say I'm acting peculiarly_

_C'mon baby_

_We better make a start_

_You better make it soon_

_Before you break my heart_

_Oh I,_

_I want to be with you everywhere_

_Oh I,_

_I want to be with you everywhere_

_(Wanna be with you everywhere)_

_Can you hear me calling_

_Out your name_

_You know that I'm falling_

_And I don't know what to say_

_Come along baby_

_We better make a start_

_You better make it soon_

_Before you break my heart_

_Oh I,_

_I want to be with you everywhere_

_Oh I,_

_I want to be with you everywhere_

_Oh I,_

_I want to be with you everywhere_

_Oh I,_

_I want to be with you everywhere_

_(Wanna be with you everywhere)_

So, maybe it was time to actually admit, that you maybe, just maybe, were falling for Santana faster than you thought possible. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to take the plunge and tell her about everything.

If her set was any indication of how she felt, you had absolutely nothing to worry about.

Nothing at all.

*0*0*


End file.
